Yo!
(What up, M4X?)
(What up, fool?)
Just fired my producer!
(What?!)
Hahaha
(Haha)
Mutha f*cka said, he couldn't make the kinda beat I wanted
Like what?
I said, "You call yourself a producer? I'll get on the mic right now & make that beat, man"
(Hell yeah)
He didn't believe me
(Hmm, mmm, mmm)
You know what they told me
They told me just spit, we don't give a shit, you betta not quit
Man, you ackin' like a bitch, shit you pitchin' a fit
Well, hell yeah if I don't give a f*ck then nobody will
Cuz when my ass is dead & gone you'll still be peddlin' pills
Sendin' out bills, fat cats sit back collectin' yo' check
So on the weekend they can hit the bar & get f*ckin' wrecked
I ain't the one, buncha punks think they can beat my ass down
Can't wait, these slugs penetrate, wish they could see me blast now
M4D M4X, yeah, but I'm also known as White Chocolate
Just spittin' on the microphone like I ain't eva bought shit
Got a dead end job & a mortgage to pay
So bitch line dem beats up, I got some raps that'll slay
Just spit, we don't give a shit, you betta not quit
Man, you ackin' like a bitch, shit you pitchin' a fit
Well if ya want, I could stunt, then call ya a runt
And nah, it won't be blunt, when I punt ya f*ckin' cunt
Tired o' bein' the boss, fo' f*ckin' minimum wage
Slang these raps & get paid or it's back to the 12 gauge
See I'd rather live life without killin' nobody
But every time I drive around all I see are mo' bodies
Y'all are empty shells, just hopin' somethin' can fill ya
The only thing that eva does is Busch, Budweiser & Miller
Killa, click clack pow, guess whose chick's whack now
We got that shit that pack loud, KO Manny Pacquiao
(POW!)
Just spit, we don't give a shit, you betta not quit
Man, you ackin' like a bitch, shit you pitchin' a fit
Lots o' people think I'm angry, but I'm really just hangry
Gimme a f*ckin' Snickers bar, 'fore I keep on complainin'
Midwest in this bitch, you betta holla Naptown!
My trigga finga's always itchin' right before the smackdown
See, I gotta vent sometimes when I write these lines, cuz I can't give in & quit writin' rhymes
So I hold it in, 'til it's cold as shit, where do I begin? Betta hold this hit
(Inhales)
Hold, no foldin' yeah, I'm always all in, ask my girl if I'm holdin'
Drive the bitch like she stolen, beat pussy up 'til it's swollen
'Til I have to rupture her colon, and just drive off & keep rollin'
Just spit, we don't give a shit, you betta not quit
Man, you ackin' like a bitch, shit you pitchin' a fit
Listen up mutha f*ckas, cuz I ain't got much time
There's only 9 bars left 'til the end of these rhymes
I could keep on cursin', blurtin' shit that's disgurstin'
If I'm eva at an orgy you should keep me from burstin'
Anyway, my ADD is really f*ckin' annoyin'
F*ckin' up this song & damn near everything that I toy with
Feel like I'm chokin' on poison, but it's nothin' diff'rent
Gimme powder by the pound cuz I love the sniff scent
Well shit, now I know this track won't eva leave the studio
So I guess I'll just have to f*ck the world right in the booty hol'
Bitch
M4D M4X - Just Spit Lyrics
M4D M4X - Just Spit Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
English
Yo!
(What up, M4X?)
(What up, fool?)
Just fired my producer!
(What?!)
Hahaha
(Haha)
Mutha f*cka said, he couldn't make the kinda beat I wanted
Like what?
I said, "You call yourself a producer? I'll get on the mic right now & make that beat, man"
(Hell yeah)
He didn't believe me
(Hmm, mmm, mmm)
You know what they told me
They told me just spit, we don't give a shit, you betta not quit
Man, you ackin' like a bitch, shit you pitchin' a fit
Well, hell yeah if I don't give a f*ck then nobody will
Cuz when my ass is dead & gone you'll still be peddlin' pills
Sendin' out bills, fat cats sit back collectin' yo' check
So on the weekend they can hit the bar & get f*ckin' wrecked
I ain't the one, buncha punks think they can beat my ass down
Can't wait, these slugs penetrate, wish they could see me blast now
M4D M4X, yeah, but I'm also known as White Chocolate
Just spittin' on the microphone like I ain't eva bought shit
Got a dead end job & a mortgage to pay
So bitch line dem beats up, I got some raps that'll slay
Just spit, we don't give a shit, you betta not quit
Man, you ackin' like a bitch, shit you pitchin' a fit
Well if ya want, I could stunt, then call ya a runt
And nah, it won't be blunt, when I punt ya f*ckin' cunt
Tired o' bein' the boss, fo' f*ckin' minimum wage
Slang these raps & get paid or it's back to the 12 gauge
See I'd rather live life without killin' nobody
But every time I drive around all I see are mo' bodies
Y'all are empty shells, just hopin' somethin' can fill ya
The only thing that eva does is Busch, Budweiser & Miller
Killa, click clack pow, guess whose chick's whack now
We got that shit that pack loud, KO Manny Pacquiao
(POW!)
Just spit, we don't give a shit, you betta not quit
Man, you ackin' like a bitch, shit you pitchin' a fit
Lots o' people think I'm angry, but I'm really just hangry
Gimme a f*ckin' Snickers bar, 'fore I keep on complainin'
Midwest in this bitch, you betta holla Naptown!
My trigga finga's always itchin' right before the smackdown
See, I gotta vent sometimes when I write these lines, cuz I can't give in & quit writin' rhymes
So I hold it in, 'til it's cold as shit, where do I begin? Betta hold this hit
(Inhales)
Hold, no foldin' yeah, I'm always all in, ask my girl if I'm holdin'
Drive the bitch like she stolen, beat pussy up 'til it's swollen
'Til I have to rupture her colon, and just drive off & keep rollin'
Just spit, we don't give a shit, you betta not quit
Man, you ackin' like a bitch, shit you pitchin' a fit
Listen up mutha f*ckas, cuz I ain't got much time
There's only 9 bars left 'til the end of these rhymes
I could keep on cursin', blurtin' shit that's disgurstin'
If I'm eva at an orgy you should keep me from burstin'
Anyway, my ADD is really f*ckin' annoyin'
F*ckin' up this song & damn near everything that I toy with
Feel like I'm chokin' on poison, but it's nothin' diff'rent
Gimme powder by the pound cuz I love the sniff scent
Well shit, now I know this track won't eva leave the studio
So I guess I'll just have to f*ck the world right in the booty hol'
Bitch
(What up, M4X?)
(What up, fool?)
Just fired my producer!
(What?!)
Hahaha
(Haha)
Mutha f*cka said, he couldn't make the kinda beat I wanted
Like what?
I said, "You call yourself a producer? I'll get on the mic right now & make that beat, man"
(Hell yeah)
He didn't believe me
(Hmm, mmm, mmm)
You know what they told me
They told me just spit, we don't give a shit, you betta not quit
Man, you ackin' like a bitch, shit you pitchin' a fit
Well, hell yeah if I don't give a f*ck then nobody will
Cuz when my ass is dead & gone you'll still be peddlin' pills
Sendin' out bills, fat cats sit back collectin' yo' check
So on the weekend they can hit the bar & get f*ckin' wrecked
I ain't the one, buncha punks think they can beat my ass down
Can't wait, these slugs penetrate, wish they could see me blast now
M4D M4X, yeah, but I'm also known as White Chocolate
Just spittin' on the microphone like I ain't eva bought shit
Got a dead end job & a mortgage to pay
So bitch line dem beats up, I got some raps that'll slay
Just spit, we don't give a shit, you betta not quit
Man, you ackin' like a bitch, shit you pitchin' a fit
Well if ya want, I could stunt, then call ya a runt
And nah, it won't be blunt, when I punt ya f*ckin' cunt
Tired o' bein' the boss, fo' f*ckin' minimum wage
Slang these raps & get paid or it's back to the 12 gauge
See I'd rather live life without killin' nobody
But every time I drive around all I see are mo' bodies
Y'all are empty shells, just hopin' somethin' can fill ya
The only thing that eva does is Busch, Budweiser & Miller
Killa, click clack pow, guess whose chick's whack now
We got that shit that pack loud, KO Manny Pacquiao
(POW!)
Just spit, we don't give a shit, you betta not quit
Man, you ackin' like a bitch, shit you pitchin' a fit
Lots o' people think I'm angry, but I'm really just hangry
Gimme a f*ckin' Snickers bar, 'fore I keep on complainin'
Midwest in this bitch, you betta holla Naptown!
My trigga finga's always itchin' right before the smackdown
See, I gotta vent sometimes when I write these lines, cuz I can't give in & quit writin' rhymes
So I hold it in, 'til it's cold as shit, where do I begin? Betta hold this hit
(Inhales)
Hold, no foldin' yeah, I'm always all in, ask my girl if I'm holdin'
Drive the bitch like she stolen, beat pussy up 'til it's swollen
'Til I have to rupture her colon, and just drive off & keep rollin'
Just spit, we don't give a shit, you betta not quit
Man, you ackin' like a bitch, shit you pitchin' a fit
Listen up mutha f*ckas, cuz I ain't got much time
There's only 9 bars left 'til the end of these rhymes
I could keep on cursin', blurtin' shit that's disgurstin'
If I'm eva at an orgy you should keep me from burstin'
Anyway, my ADD is really f*ckin' annoyin'
F*ckin' up this song & damn near everything that I toy with
Feel like I'm chokin' on poison, but it's nothin' diff'rent
Gimme powder by the pound cuz I love the sniff scent
Well shit, now I know this track won't eva leave the studio
So I guess I'll just have to f*ck the world right in the booty hol'
Bitch
Writer: Maxwell Crawford
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid