W.Y.I.M (What's yours is mine) Lyrics

Man we walked inside your city like the place ain't yours

I slap a nigga show silver caps on my massive grin

It made his taste deteriorate he thought he had the vid

Highly favored greeting lady luck with a passionate kiss

The world's in flames but I remain that shows the craftsmanship

I'm booted up prepped for coup d'Etats with some armored men

serial number scratched off the Glock they don't know who's it is

Is there a body on this bitch? I mean like 1 to 10

Street doctor chopped them all up leaking god-awful stench

I know that boy not waking up this sleep is more than REM

Bitch I'm colorful as fuck in my veins it's just more than red

I got two freaks under sheets tryna greet with morning head

but I was out delivering blotter sheets to colleges at 4 A.M.

Freshman trying to get me to spoon with her but I aint Reese

Ask about me they know how I know do niggas this can't beef

Man fuck ya pops he should have never shot his seed

Pushed that shit way past the issue one call then I send the fleet

The tides will shift

My location remote

Bitch gon desecrate the sheets then I'm sending that hoe back home

The pentagrams on Wicca candles lit so she can cast an omen

All on em hoe niggas

Thought the ass was as big as a slope so Im riding down Slalom

Bitch Im Masanutten cold

My sweat comes down as frozen shards they break off when they hit the floor

No asterisk beside my dub no plastic inside my hoe

Need sticky like Dijonay want smoke then I'm Cuban bold

I wish I could take the pain and roll this motherfucka up

If I did I'd blow it down until the roaches burn my thumbs

Bitch you know I make niggas dont try to fuck me up

Cause I will send your dirty asses packing back down to the slums

Buckshot now your brain is slush

Hybrid strains I puff will bring the punch like Clubber Lang and such

Baby boy can't smoke my jay the shit I face will sprain your lung

Maybe know who sprayed the scene but I can not say too much

You was in interrogation eating chick fil a for lunch

There ain't no face to save he falling fast from grace

Left out with a brand new SSN a voice with southern twang

Sources say he's Georgia bound

Trying to head down to the A

It don't matter where you go I'm on your ass in outer space.

I'ma help you find the shame of yours kicking down the door walk in the crib it's like the place is ours

Swiffer jets incase we stain the floor pull up to your door walk in the crib its like the place ain't yours.