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"Aggin Laer" lyrics by MR. MUTHAFUCKIN' EXQUIRE
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[MR. MFN EXQUIRE]


"Aggin Laer"
[feat. Goldie Glo]


[Verse 1:]
Fly diatribe, bloodline of the twelfth kind
Look inside his mind,
Let's see what we'll find
A bit of vindictive, nigga hellbent with
Visions of his competition kissing at his Timbalands
Roman numeral for ten
A live nigga, put this million dollar dick in twenty thousand dollar bitches
Shorty work at Target, but I don't need no bargain
She got a fat ass, I'm fucking
Pardon if my lifestyle happens to offend you
But these are the day to day things that we live through
Real nigga skullies, real nigga hoodies
I'm a real nigga, you can sense it in me
Eight months ago, I was working in the parking lot
Guarding a bunch of cars, I thought I'd never drive
Coal turned into a diamond in the projects
A nigga scheming on some money I ain't got yet
Fuck money, bitches too, all I need is my niggas, that'll do
(Peel off motherfucker) They say I'm up next,
I can tell by the press,
But I can't tell be these checks
Trying to separate my [?] from distress
Trying to navigate my way out of duress
You can be Shawn Michaels or Marty Jannetty
If you ain't watch wrestling, you didn't get that
I kick back with [censored]
Watching season 1 of The Wire, getting dick wet
Caveman stroke, she can feel it where her ribs at
Rubbing on a nigga tummy like he had a six pack
I dig that
Nigga live with that
You missed that thinking it's just rap
I could go on, but nigga fuck that

[Verse 2: Goldie Glo]
Shout a ho, Goldie Glo, a pimp 'till I die
She didn't see me coming 'till I put my dick on her eye
Tell her wobbity-wobbity
Make her swallow it, swallow it
Swinging round like a joystick
Slurp it up, but don't gobble it
From the motherfucking bottom with a dollar and a holla
Those [?] shits so dumb, I had to go and pop my collar
A player from the projects, all about the profits
Blow that shit like I don't know that shit, all we do is progress
I woke up this morning with two bitches in my bed, two guns under pillow, [?], turkey bacon, and eggs
Do this shit and I'm true to this, pretty hoes I'm choosing this
Every time I come around, I'm floating around that coup shit
Fresh out the barber, looking like a father
Cazal frames on my face, it cost more than your Prada
Touch mine and I'll cross your face with a box-cutter I'm old school
Come and fuck with these young players, stay away from those old fools

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