DJ Scheme and Robb Bank$ - 3 Sum

Yo man, this a hit, big hit
Ayy Ben, this, this shit might be a hit right here
You know we thuggin', Broward County to the death, nigga
You already know, nigga, fuck that nigga
What? What?
Yeah, yeah, yeah

I like head, I like pussy
I like that mouth, but I don't like kisses
I like threesomes with multiple bitches
I like Felisha, I like Jenny
I like ridin' that bitch like a pony
I like to get my hands dirty 'bout my doly
I know I make a bitch sick, let her suck me (yeah)
Heard your wrist tickin' loud with that fake-ass Rollie, pussy

Whoa, whooped out a twelve inch, said that taste it like candy
Whoa, how the fuck you walk past me and you ain't bow down to me (mwah)
Whoa, I get a lil' money and I can't even talk to these pussies (mwah)
Whoa, I see the nigga dead in the streets, I can't say nothin', no

You gotta drip, don't cuff that shit
You lovin' that thot, don't cuff that bitch
I got yo' paycheck on my wrist
I could pay your tuition if I wave my hand
Got a bachelors degree, I'ma bachelor the bitch
In her dorm room at UCL
Feel like B2K, shit, I'll never fear
I'm in my trap, baby, you know I ain't miss
I got Marcus using when I jump out of the car
Black man ride, pullin' up like, "Eugh"
Leather jacket, Margiela like Fuzzy
'Member when I was locked up in the County
Mama threw all my Perc's down the toilet
An officer watchin', was lookin', he try to find me
So my lil' brother cry when we lost our granny
Ten BB I said when that nigga met Manny
I can't talk to these niggas at all
If you fuck thirty, I'm tryna see a nigga ball
'Bout, 'bout, 'bout, 'bout, 'bout that vibe
Might expose the story, I ain't watch it all
I done got tired to the Audi
A bitch got a Rolls Royce truck, B
Gave her Caribbean, hold that car

I like head, I like pussy
I like that mouth, but I don't like kisses
I like threesomes with multiple bitches
I like Felisha, I like Jenny (like, uh)
I like ridin' that bitch like a pony
I like to get my hands dirty 'bout my doly (bitch)
I know I make a bitch sick, let her suck me
Heard your wrist tickin' loud with that fake-ass Rollie, pussy

Whoa, whooped out a twelve inch, said that taste it like candy, yeah
Whoa, how the fuck you walk past me and you ain't bow to me (mwah)
Whoa, I get a lil' money and I can't even talk to these pussies, yeah (mwah)
Whoa, I see the nigga dead in the streets, I can't say nothin', no (yeah)

Written by:
Richard O'Neil Burrell

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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