Give Them What They Ask For

Fuck that club shit

They want that thug shit

But I ain't no thug, bitch

And I ain't no gangster, bitch

I'm a hustler, ho

And I got no problem

If you want it, you can get it, boy, I'll bust you

Anybody wanna test at, who? Me

P-I to the motherfucking T

It's not my fault that your bitch chose me

Now her and her girlfriend wanna do  me

This is for them boys in them Chevys

Sittin' on the King James, them 2-3's

And if you got a problem with me

Holler at my lawyer, bitch, sue me

I'm tired of the fuck boy rap, fuck boy this, fuck boy that

Watch a couple movies and they put it in they rhymes

Wanna be fiddlers, I'm straight, you get shot 9 times

10 years in the game, since '99, I was speaking my mind (Yes, sir)

And then shit changed, if you got a problem

If you got a problem, bitch, cross Dayton County line

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

What they want, that street talk

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

What they want, that chopper talk

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

What they want, that dope talk

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

That trap boy, jack boy shit

I'ma tell y'all boy, y'all boys got me fucked up (Yeah, straight up)

Better duck when them things buck, I ain't Jigga, boy

**** what, **** who, who the fuck is you?

Talking to me like you know me

Ain't your dawg, ain't your buddy, ain't your homie

Nah, bruh, not me

And if you spit it, better live it, matter of fact, better show me

I'ma make 'em say, ugh, not even Master P cook crack like this

And you ain't never seen a chico in the gang

This raw since Pun that can rap like this

I hear them and they raps about the coke

And the crack and the click to the clack

But to me it's chit chat, BLAH

Motherfucker, take that, now

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

What they want, that street talk

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

What they want, that chopper talk

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

What they want, that dope talk

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

That trap boy, jack boy shit

I'ma spit it, flip it, rip it for them boys

Making digits off the coke when they whip it

Grab the  stick, double clip it

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi

Cock back, click it, blaow

Poppa, what you think of last

What you wanna do is get found in the trunk of the Lincoln stanking

I took my money from the shoebox, now I bank it

Foolish, ain't it?

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

What they want, that street talk

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

What they want, that chopper talk

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

What they want, that dope talk

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

That trap boy, jack boy shit

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

What they want, that street talk

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

What they want, that chopper talk

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

What they want, that dope talk

I'ma give 'em what they ask for

That trap boy, jack boy shit

Fuck that club shit

They want that thug shit

But I ain't no thug, bitch

And I ain't no gangster, bitch

I'm a hustler, ho

And I got no problem

If you want it, you can get it, boy, I'll bust you