Xzibit, B-Real and Demrick - Fruit Punch

Momma didn't raise no dummy
Gimme all you want, can't take nothin' from me
Big Bad Wolf tryna catch a lil' bunny
Learned a long time ago the bears need honey

I'm zoned out, I'm fired up, I don't think I'm high enough
I took two, got five left, I'm out of touch, I digress
I truly don't give a fuck, 'cause I'm ice cold, no love
I'm turned off, know too much, no honeymoon, no fruit punch
Can't stand no crooked man, I can't stand no bitch
Keep your issues, keep your distance, I got money to collect
If you come from where I come from
You know how we represent
Get the bag, get the bullets, get the vest, fuckin' yes

Comin' outside on you niggas
I'ma west ride on you niggas
I'ma get the OG's and the Bee Gees
Better find a place to hide, 'cause we killas
In my habitat with gorillas
We could take it to the back, I should kill 'em
Nah, let me handle that, let me get 'em
Nigga, we can lock up like the system
You could call the police like a victim
You a First 48 type of nigga, hit 'em
Them tear ducts all teared up
Didn't hesitate to tell on them niggas
Take a break, it's only gon' get 'em
If a motherfucker fake, he gon' get Godzilla
It's that pull-up, that bang-bang, we serial killers so we kill 'em

I'm zoned out, I'm fired up, I don't think I'm high enough
I took two, got five left, I'm out of touch, I digress
I truly don't give a fuck, 'cause I'm ice cold, no love
I'm turned off, know too much, no honeymoon, no fruit punch
Can't stand no crooked man, I can't stand no bitch
Keep your issues, keep your distance, I got money to collect
If you come from where I come from
You know how we represent
Get the bag, get the bullets, get the vest, fuckin' yes

Today, I got time for you niggas
I'ma bottom line all you niggas
I'm about mine, every single dime
Goes to the money and the women
I know you assumed you was winnin'
I'm immune to your venom
Pulled a nine from out the denim
Ride a hit of good vodka and send God to get 'em

Never lookin' back, I move ahead (yeah)
Got another pack to move instead (yeah)
Livin' like a king, we get the bread (yeah)
Get away from me, we take your head (yeah)
We don't leave a clue, no residue (yeah)
Better have a few roll in with you (yeah)
In the four door with the four-four
Goin' slow-mo, cocked and aimed at you

I'm zoned out, I'm fired up, I don't think I'm high enough
I took two, got five left, I'm out of touch, I digress
I truly don't give a fuck, 'cause I'm ice cold, no love
I'm turned off, know too much, no honeymoon, no fruit punch
Can't stand no crooked man, I can't stand no bitch
Keep your issues, keep your distance, I got money to collect
If you come from where I come from
You know how we represent
Get the bag, get the bullets, get the vest, fuckin' yes

Written by:
Alvin Nathaniel Joiner, Louis Freese

Publisher:
Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC

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