Til` My Casket Drops

Chorus: C-Bo<br><br>All I ever wanted was a pair of Nikes<br>A Lexus, a mansion and eternal life<br>Maybe what it was, I was askin for too much<br>Prayin to God, thinkin `did he give a fuck?`<br>Twelve years old, I was always told<br>Every day I want it, that glitter ain`t gold<br>But fuck that shit, I want a twelve inch dick<br>A Coupe, a chrome, and a money makin bitch<br><br>Verse 1: C-Bo<br><br>A `Lac, front, back, man, I wish I had it<br>In a brim, Rolex down wit a automatic<br>I be the shit, pimpin hoes from Cali to Louisville<br>Strip em for money in Magic City and the A-T-L<br>Cos see these bitches ain`t shit but investments<br>And they ain`t worth shit unless they makin profit<br>I need a money-makin bitch to satisfy my needs<br>Some pussy, dough, diamonds and G`s<br>So when I swoop in my coupe, out to get my loot<br>Collect it from hookers more famous than Betty Boo<br>It be that, legalised pimpin that`s keepin me above the water<br>Fuck a bitch, get rich and live the life of a baller<br>Cos a broke bitch ain`t nuttin but a downfall<br>Unless she cement her money and her mind, y`all<br>And wit straight-laced game is how ya take control<br>I been practisin the shit since twelve years old<br><br>Chorus<br><br>Verse 2: Lunasicc<br><br>One foot in the grave and eleven inches insane<br>Psychotic nigga named Lunasicc, squattin out them gold thangs<br>Slappin these bitches, y`all can`t be laggin on the payroll<br>Let`s get your ass right back to the track before your face get steezo<br>I`m cold like the winter, get up in your flesh like a splinter<br>I dash with the cash then mash on the gas, prepare a hog for dinner<br>Creepin when I`m sleepin, my bitch ya want coasted<br>by the window, wit an AK ready for niggas wit their gunplay<br>Cap peelers, drug dealers, I thought you knew<br>that if you fuck wit one of my niggas then you`re fuckin wit the crew<br>We roll deep like sheep, always strapped wit some heat<br>Original gangsta, fuck a prankster, ride my nuts like a beat, huh<br>I`m bout it, bout it, but niggas like you, I doubt it, doubt it<br>I come thru, drinkin blue lookin bout it, bout it<br>Ready for the gunplay, move the crowd like we the O-Jays<br>Blastin like I`m crazy out the Colt wit my .3-80, Mafioso<br><br>Chorus<br><br>Verse 3: 151<br><br>Las Vegas, Lake Tahoe to Reno<br>Bitches on the highest floors of the casinos<br>Butt naked, checkin money by the G stack<br>As I pose at the crap tables, sippin on yak<br>I`m just a baller, wit a grip of money-makin hoes<br>Might catch em fo`-deep in a C-Ville on triple golds<br>Wit cell phones and pagers as if it`s on a grind<br>So to keep em an X-rated pussy is a goldmine<br><br>I`m on a major mission to increase my stacks to the highest climax<br>I`m wrapped up in my safe and G-pacts<br>Crackin like green weed sacks, for slangin, for danglin<br>youngstas wit their pants hangin, gangbangin, .45 stangin<br>Ain`t no tamin, aimin, accurate, we hit em off and slid em off<br>They get off in the Valley, immaculately, sippin rally`s<br>Winners are stackin chips up like alleys<br>From Seattle to Cali, the North of Valley, nigga<br><br>Chorus<br><br>Bitch!