what in this bitch fucking with z ro motherfucking mo city don bitch yeah i know y all hate the way we stare at y all face rap game phenomenon lyrically i drop bombs with feddy up in my palms and i show you why i m the don z ro the soldier with a chip on my shoulder i get you if i owe you x your file like scully and mulder colder with the pen pimping thang fuck bringing it to your ass me and that boy den den gon bring it to your brain sit back get it together take a chill really sit back when i m on swangas never hear no noise cause them hoes don t click clack i m thinking thoed about to unload on anything that don t mind slapping patches up out your hair better say better somebody to find straight up and down and rap flawn these jackers ain t on that s why i skip the slab and i move straight to foreign everybody has collided with the screwed up click and when i pick up the mic and i go off they say how he do that shit i m a mic wrecker about to checkmate like checkers a pine breasher with 25 bags of light green on my dresser gripping grain my screen is gonna fall like rain cause i get my my grind and my my shine on i m balling crawling in the turning lane we tipping and we earning mayn cause we get our our grind and our our shine on we hauling gripping grain on the feeter switching lanes with aaliyah top down low to the ground car looking completed balling hard like kobe put two inches on tobe pack a seventeen shot hope a nigga don t provoke me cars they smoking with herbal incent mashing horses flipping tortoise candy up like sip beat the toll for a dolla as i smash right under on the passenger of me riding underground under i ponder in the game passing laws gripping grain screens fall like rain leaving puddles and stains for my grind be major hit me on two way pager all my tools there s a later for a safe place hater so when you see me in them streets you best bow down i m gripping grain causing pain hold it down h town like a king or a chief i m blowing endo sweets saving my change pushing my range starched up looking sweet  twelve inches of dope candy coat gon float got a beach house in galveston with woofers on bump and we gon choke on smoke and swallow drank as we sail atlantic ocean the pacific man i m making my mail from selling yale to record sales to fatten our pocket murdering motherfuckers on wax can t nobody can stop it with the checks and a black x and a rolex make niggas check got my nose wide open smelling nothing but plex i get deep like a dimple complicated but simple from rags to riches on these bitches screwed up medallion with a symbol ain t no mo chains and pieces for my nephews and nieces when the record stores get empty my ass get money increases you can t walk on my lawn better leave my vipor alone got a house in sweet water texas lexus and a pond with a swan they call me a swanga not a diss i broke up on and made her bitch now affiliated on a candy coated yacht eating on shrimp fish straight profit taking over and you can t stop it cause we get our our grind and our our shine on we balling crawling in the turning lane we tipping and we earning mayn cause we get our our grind and our our shine on we hauling gripping grain grind on and my my shine on turning lane