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Lay It Down, Pt2

アーティスト：8Ball & MJG  作詞：JOHNSON DERRICK  作曲：JOHNSON DERRICK 

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[Music plays in bakground] (Eightball we doin this shit once again For you fake ass niggaz lay it the fuck down BEYITCH) [Intro/Chorus:] Lay it down, lay it down You hoes lay it down Lay it down, lay it down You hoes lay it down [Verse 1: Thorough] He's got his head tilted back on his face is a frown Who's that nigga there it's Thorough bitch So don't you clown, the sound and style, of Swisher after Swisher Oh how I wish ya would step so I could hit ya With wicked shit slick and swift As I slaughter quick, oughta flip with fluents To show you how we be doin in the Suave House federation; that is cat You don't know how it's comin cause you don't where it's at A mack of all trades, low cut, tight fade We all get paid, so gets sprayed, so buster behave My flavor's deep, please peep, I ain't soft I represent at all cost and always got my niner out So eeease back cause you marks can't hang with me I got to much game in me, killin ain't no thang to me Give a nut check, and I see you outta place And I say that to say you're a BITCH, and you ain't got what it takes To stop the funk mutha from freelance jackin Brushes up on yo skills, cause fool I ain't lackin With my hands on my dick, my click is thick so don't clown Bitches we ain't playin you hoes lay it down [Chorus x2] [Verse 2: Eightball] It's Sunday morning, I'm stil yawnin from the night before So much sess in my chest from the Swishers I smoke OH NO! Who is this hoe in the bed with me? I remember the pussy but I don't remember her name G Grab me Swisher cut it up and fill it with weed, hit that hoe In the head, and tell her get out of my bed you damn freak Hopped into the shower for an hour, it was hot as hell Got dressed and ran a gold comb through my curls Walkin out of the house slow, tellin that hoe come on let's go First I crack up the music then, hit the switch on my six-four Candy coated paint, got the bitches at the bus stop sick But at the same time on my dick, thick Beat a bitch quick I'm sick, full of Swishers and malt liquor I'm a killa on them sticks, aggivated hallucinatin Tryin to let go of my frustration But some my luck, nigga gonna be a med patient I gotta nine uzi AK, but that shit don't really matter Cause if I gotta I will rat-a-tat-a To splatter the guts of nigga with no nuts



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