verse
Sold it for six-o, always let tricks know
And friends know, we got that indoe
Yo, I'm not a sucka sittin' in a house of pain
And no I'm not the butler, i'll cut ya head-butt ya
You say you can't touch this
verse
And I wouldn't touch ya, punk motherfucker
Here to let you know boy, oh boy
I make dough, but don't call me dough-boy
This ain't no fuckin' motion picture
chorus
A guy or bitch-a, my nigga get wit ya
And hit ya, makin' they yack to the neck
So you better run a check
So come on and chick-ity-check yo self
verse
Claimin' that they foldin'
Bank but steady talkin shit in the holdin'
Tank first you wanna step to me
Now your ass screamin' for the deputy
They send you to Charlie-Baker-Denver row
verse
Now the runnin' up in ya slow
You're God, used to be the Don Juan
Now your name is just Twan
Switch it, snap it, rollin your eyes and neck
verse
I got six and I'm aimin' em
Will I bust or keep you guessin'
'Cause fuck you and that shit ya stressin'
Bitch, get off the wood, you no good
There goes the neighborhood hooker
verse
Go ahead and keep your drawers
Givin' up the claps and who needs applause
At a time like this, pop ya coochie and ya dead
Bitch is a Miami hurricane head
chorus
Sprung, niggas call her lips and lungs
Nappy dugout, get the fuck out
'Cause women like you gets no respect
Bitch, you better run a check
So chick-ity-check yo self
So chick-ity-check yo self
Come on an' chick-ity-check yo self
So chick-ity-check yo self
So chick-ity-check yo self
Come on an' chick-ity-check yo self