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"Icky Woods" lyrics by ALEX WILEY
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"Icky Woods"
[feat. Action Bronson]

[Verse 1 - Alex Wiley:]
I came through with the weed
Eighth in the wood
My niggas was fried
My hoes, they do drugs
My niggas is thugs
All my villagers ride
Getting paper
Now the bitches say he full of surprises
And they thinkin' it's time
To go and drop a [?]
On thirty sluts and thirty doves
To fly on my arrival
You niggas pressed, you niggas pressed the squad eatin falafels
The book of my life is gonna outsell the Bible
I do this shit with my eyes closed
My dick is fucking colossal
Caught me fuckin' a fossil
Niggas talkin' that tough shit
Niggas so fuckin' docile
All my sessions is closed
Like standin' eatin' in the kitchen
I'm standing next to the stove
And through all the pressure to fold
My necklace is gold, my necklace is gold
I take this city with me, baby
I'm reppin' the 'Go
So I don't give a motherfuck about it
I'm a motherfucking problem
And your hoes' got the mileage of a 74

[Verse 2 - Action Bronson:]
I know these haters wanna see me fall
But my mama wanna see me ball
And your shorty wanna see my balls
And all these bitches wanna see my money
But they can't get shit from me
You know who you fuckin' blowing
Fuck you, straight up
Chi town, we out here
It's the consistency of coke honey
I'm spending old money
Snap my fingers, drugs are sold for me
Wink my eye, then a human dies
While I'm dancin' to some Cuban vibes
Ladies think I'm handsome and the shoes are fly
Damn, tell a baby, grab your ankles
'Bout to smash your pussy like your man play for the Bengals
Ickey Woods, Ickey Shuffle in the 740
Uncle Pauly right behind us in the 850
This shit fly strange like a retarded duck
You get carted off
Then I'm dippin' like some garlic sauce
Pimpin' Koala soft
Vomit on the Porsche
Spent a wallet on the loft
Green olives in the joint
The drugs make me smarter as I use them
I mean abuse them
I ain't the one for all the choosin'
I see them, then I do
Then I'm going to the movies
And then a Beamer that I'm cruisin'
Serve white balls, autograph by Todd Hundley
I need LeBron money
Straight notes like fingers on the guitar money
Splash the bread with the sitar, dummy
Two times
I'm like the motherfucking Mary Lou Retten of this shit
Bam, bam, Bronselino
Closed Sessions
Blow me from the back, bitch

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