[Verse 1:] They say men don't cry, but why this shit leakin' out my eye? Every day's a good day to die If I live each second, stand up straight Man of a man, shit just don't add up So what's really good? I can't tell Got niggaz screaming "Church" going straight to Hell In a red Testerossa, wild West coaster Carry techs in holster, respect the Nostra Fam like mafia, white polo t-shirted Haters say the same shit like I ain't never hizzeard it Yall niggaz is funny like Nick Cannon Got a nickel-plated magnum, nick-named Nick Cannon Hitman and tryin' not to spit random Bust at even a phantom, ricocheted and hit Adam Put Satan on my belt and my Force One swooshes Never bit apple, blend the can with the juices Fail the plan, you plan to fail And the plan is to send my little man to Yale And niggaz know they ain't fuckin' with that Like what did the five fingers say to the face? Slap!
[Chorus:] Just give me the reason, and I'll promise I'll make it your day (slap season) My hands are so achey from slappin' these niggaz all day (slap season!) Boy, I tried to tell you that I don't really play those games (slap season) Ohhhhhh ohhhhhh ohhhhhhhh.... (slap season!)
[Verse 2:] And you can think you know a nigga 'til he get a little fame Believe me, [censored out] sold his soul in D.C. Fucked me up though, gotta move on now Step my game up, making product cologne now Dumbin' out, minkin' Bout to a custom made skunk, fur, hoody, and it ain't stinkin' Yall know the biz, that's what it is Got Wendy outta Capitol like I clapped on the bitch Kept my masters, and let paper trail explain Beat white corporate America at they own game I'm a couple million dollars richer Rap has got heads startin' to buy frames, yall get the picture And before I go broke I send the bitch on a flight with her baby in her tote That ain't formula, bottles filled with liquified coke Make the sign of the cross and die with the Pope Float through Cali with die moves and blues Non-affiliates and seranios too Bulldogs, northerners, and Kumi Prolly some other shit you never heard of somewhere in the boonies Shiites and Sunnis, oosoes and goonies Like Santa, I slide down your chimney, sprayin' a uzi And niggaz know they ain't fuckin' with that Like what did the five fingers say to the face? Slap!
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Copy to Clipboard: [Verse 1:] They say men don't cry, but why this shit leakin' out my eye? Every day's a good day to die If I live each second, stand up straight Man of a man, shit just don't add up So what's really good? I can't tell Got niggaz screaming "Church" going straight to Hell In a red Testerossa, wild West coaster Carry techs in holster, respect the Nostra Fam like mafia, white polo t-shirted Haters say the same shit like I ain't never hizzeard it Yall niggaz is funny like Nick Cannon Got a nickel-plated magnum, nick-named Nick Cannon Hitman and tryin' not to spit random Bust at even a phantom, ricocheted and hit Adam Put Satan on my belt and my Force One swooshes Never bit apple, blend the can with the juices Fail the plan, you plan to fail And the plan is to send my little man to Yale And niggaz know they ain't fuckin' with that Like what did the five fingers say to the face? Slap!
[Chorus:] Just give me the reason, and I'll promise I'll make it your day (slap season) My hands are so achey from slappin' these niggaz all day (slap season!) Boy, I tried to tell you that I don't really play those games (slap season) Ohhhhhh ohhhhhh ohhhhhhhh.... (slap season!)
[Verse 2:] And you can think you know a nigga 'til he get a little fame Believe me, [censored out] sold his soul in D.C. Fucked me up though, gotta move on now Step my game up, making product cologne now Dumbin' out, minkin' Bout to a custom made skunk, fur, hoody, and it ain't stinkin' Yall know the biz, that's what it is Got Wendy outta Capitol like I clapped on the bitch Kept my masters, and let paper trail explain Beat white corporate America at they own game I'm a couple million dollars richer Rap has got heads startin' to buy frames, yall get the picture And before I go broke I send the bitch on a flight with her baby in her tote That ain't formula, bottles filled with liquified coke Make the sign of the cross and die with the Pope Float through Cali with die moves and blues Non-affiliates and seranios too Bulldogs, northerners, and Kumi Prolly some other shit you never heard of somewhere in the boonies Shiites and Sunnis, oosoes and goonies Like Santa, I slide down your chimney, sprayin' a uzi And niggaz know they ain't fuckin' with that Like what did the five fingers say to the face? Slap!
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