Ft. YG 400 - D.R.U.G.S

Tire marks, tire marks, finish line with the fire marks
When it really starts I’m a runaway slave-master
Sh*ttin’ on the past gotta spit it like a pastor
After, basher, did like doe like dasher, faster-motorbike faster
Iggy gotta get a b*tch watch for my rapture
White b*tch go, ’bout to blow like the wind
Penthouse too roof top at the wind
When I win, when I win I win, no when I wid ’em they good like shin
Got hoes on call, got hoes on call to come through take a pro-to-call
Just damagin’ that’s my protocol
Dismantle ya, Australians on Slauson, no camera, I don’t care who you are
No coming back gotta give it to you raw,
Pitchfork point better pass me the joint
Gotta twist this beat I’ma sprang my joint
Straight crack rock, go to the pop-pop
Pumo jiggy rap city, no tiggy - yeah shorty do illa’ I’m raw no digga’
what’s my muthaf*ckin’ name it’s Iggy not Jiggy
Don’t compare me to her, throw the b*tch in the ditch
Ruff ruff ho, could da b*tch I’m big,
Sewed the game up stapled up in a stitch
Click-click pow drops game my click,
Look at my heels LV on it, ignorant art, everybody on it
Everybody want it, 666 got a three car garage driveway be the omen,
Boss like Cowen?
Hate me, Chordz 3D can’t see me,
Packets better than a H3, I don’t see you like mace-me, ugh
D.R.U.G.S - click oh and we on - hater
On these hoes hairs no activator, whores f*ck up when he activate-her
Cuz I’m goin’ out with my hand raised
’Bout to smack, smack, smack till my hand cave,
On the b*tch May, honey I’m paid, I’ma get laid f*ck yer man cave
Ya act like ya girl B-real, (ta’sun)
Kinda spaced-out you b*tches be duckin’
Better than ya girl, than the best, make the competition rest
Unless it’s sex no less, I’ma f*ck a hoe game I’m best
With my strap on, my vibrator, ’bout to Bust-a-Rhyme, no violator
Course no, I’ma feel myself,
I’m a masturbator like uh uh uh uh-f*ck me, f*ck me
Now I’m off beat, my head hurts, I murk sh*t, I gets paper
Wash my mouth, I curse like a sailor - b*tch!