Verse 1: Speedin' on the highway, gangsta lean One-Sixteen, full steam, kna meen? bitches on my jock 'cause my flow is hot spot the watch I got filled with rocks you can see from a block when the light hit, strictly fishscale, fuck that light shit menage out the garage, double pipe shit lookin' at her like "Aiyo Ma, I know you likes this" capital S, capital H, capital Y, capital N, capital E spit three at his V he survived miraculously killed the n***a who was layin' in the passengers seat flow sick, no shit, roll six head crack, walk the streets with my chain out for frontin' blow your brains out for nothin' fuck ya'll n****s walkin' 'round like ya'll sayin' somethin' what ya'll know about G4's? SL's with the automatic door let the automatic pour and kill you n****s who act hard flee to the Hamps, Atlantic Ocean be my backyard.
Chorus - Boys will be Boys, Bad Boys, Bad Boys Boys will be Boys, Bad Boys, Bad Boys Boys will be Boys, Bad Boys, Bad Boys Boys will be Boys, Bad Boys, Bad Boys
Verse 2: Flow like what, princess cut, yellow rocks gleam respect the team hands tied, close your eyes, picture me rollin' gangsta literally holdin' stacks and Macs I got the greyest jewerly n***a, need the plaques to match to feed my Moms and my team sit back relax fuckin' with this rap, still I pimp smack fuck a bitch gap, show me where them bricks at pants saggin', spazzin' Gucci, with the double G pattern n***a fuck around, put your stomach in your lap'n Seven-thirty, stay dirty, respect the game got this shit locked like John T. McLain get up in that ass like Pamela Lee shot Clyde, fucked Bonnie, Thelma, and Louise fuck a dream I got a Seventeen shot magazine that materialize everything to cream.
Chorus 4x
Verse 3: Gangsta life, fuck a block format put it down for my n****s who hold Macs sell bricks and catch cases, reload, spray, shoot half them them state troops and thats word to Jesus` fracture bones, crack ya dome we don't flash the chrome, we blast ya gone nevertheless, sell half wet, measure the rest sniff a little bit so I can mix pleasure with death for my bitches princess cuts and emerald sets American express, uh, whip it out fuck a price bitch, just pick it out want a little CLK? deep dish it out? on your car phone headed to your bitches house Pirahda gucci things, Cartier doobie pins you could live, but bet I Indian give fuck your friend take your shit back and give her the gems ya'll wear the same size, tell the same lies got the same cunt, bitch don't front it's the best, who wan' know? 718 to 90210.
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Verse 1: Speedin' on the highway, gangsta lean One-Sixteen, full steam, kna meen? bitches on my jock 'cause my flow is hot spot the watch I got filled with rocks you can see from a block when the light hit, strictly fishscale, fuck that light shit menage out the garage, double pipe shit lookin' at her like "Aiyo Ma, I know you likes this" capital S, capital H, capital Y, capital N, capital E spit three at his V he survived miraculously killed the n***a who was layin' in the passengers seat flow sick, no shit, roll six head crack, walk the streets with my chain out for frontin' blow your brains out for nothin' fuck ya'll n****s walkin' 'round like ya'll sayin' somethin' what ya'll know about G4's? SL's with the automatic door let the automatic pour and kill you n****s who act hard flee to the Hamps, Atlantic Ocean be my backyard.
Chorus - Boys will be Boys, Bad Boys, Bad Boys Boys will be Boys, Bad Boys, Bad Boys Boys will be Boys, Bad Boys, Bad Boys Boys will be Boys, Bad Boys, Bad Boys
Verse 2: Flow like what, princess cut, yellow rocks gleam respect the team hands tied, close your eyes, picture me rollin' gangsta literally holdin' stacks and Macs I got the greyest jewerly n***a, need the plaques to match to feed my Moms and my team sit back relax fuckin' with this rap, still I pimp smack fuck a bitch gap, show me where them bricks at pants saggin', spazzin' Gucci, with the double G pattern n***a fuck around, put your stomach in your lap'n Seven-thirty, stay dirty, respect the game got this shit locked like John T. McLain get up in that ass like Pamela Lee shot Clyde, fucked Bonnie, Thelma, and Louise fuck a dream I got a Seventeen shot magazine that materialize everything to cream.
Chorus 4x
Verse 3: Gangsta life, fuck a block format put it down for my n****s who hold Macs sell bricks and catch cases, reload, spray, shoot half them them state troops and thats word to Jesus` fracture bones, crack ya dome we don't flash the chrome, we blast ya gone nevertheless, sell half wet, measure the rest sniff a little bit so I can mix pleasure with death for my bitches princess cuts and emerald sets American express, uh, whip it out fuck a price bitch, just pick it out want a little CLK? deep dish it out? on your car phone headed to your bitches house Pirahda gucci things, Cartier doobie pins you could live, but bet I Indian give fuck your friend take your shit back and give her the gems ya'll wear the same size, tell the same lies got the same cunt, bitch don't front it's the best, who wan' know? 718 to 90210.
Chorus 4x
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