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suck my dick - mr. porter lyrics

[intro]
two, three and yeah
where your momma at?
where your momma at?
where your momma at?
where your momma at?
where your momma at?
where your momma at?

[verse 1: kon artis]
i got a hot date with grace jones at eight-thirty
i prolly stand up to do smack with james worthy
in a stolen maserati, car full of hotties
in a chevy big body, with a parliament c-ssette stuck in my tape deck
a demigod flippin’ off a f-ckin’ redneck (b-tch!)
i ain’t democrat or republic, my life’s f-cked up and i love it
i’m b-tter with these blades, you can hug it
man, if you ain’t got it, you can get it
i drive gettin’ head, my hood steerin’
after i c-m she swallow my charring
i meet and greet bet naked in tube socks (what up?)
and word up this how i’m livin’ ladies who want c-ck
gaming tracy mcgrady i guessed that’s why they flock
but i’m 7-0 shorter than that nine in his back pocket
but they don’t know that, all they see is this big house
and this cadillac stroke the chef, gettin’ head in the back
f-ck it, all we want is -ss and t-ts
in a big abyss cook us all legs and grits
ja rule he drive his d-mn car in a ditch
i wish benzino died of aids instead of eazy, sh-t
i hope to chanté lose her voice, little muesli b-tch
give scott and mary j. blige “you heard of it”
and if you havin’ you know you ain’t murderin’ sh-t
but this is just my thang, and it shouldn’t hurt you b-tch
when i say

[hook: kon artis]
suck my d-ck
suck my d-ck
g-y b-tches you can, suck my d-ck
i hate you motherf-ckers, suck my d-ck
that’s why d-12 like, suck my d-ck
and mr. porter like, suck my d-ck
my girl treasure like, suck my cl-t
and you all can you, suck my d-ck still?

[verse 2: kon artis]
i tried a high of c-ke, b-mpin’ nirvana
my wild persona is that off a hemopiranha
i been evolving ’round drama, there’s none knows, b-tch
thirty eight special, sat-rday night sh-t
you mad you can’t hit, you missing close range
you never could shoot, that’s why i’m blaming your aim
of course i’m conceited, look at me i’m cute
your b-tch got to boot, ’cause you couldn’t suck tu’ (d-cks)
me and bizzy, our plan stay risky
and this whisky is the reason that you clowns comin’ with me
and i done told you, two and half find your horoscopin’
your man got to cut you on the floss thought i was jokin’
walking ’round this b-tch with no warns, not what he grows in
talking like i would do no harm, that’s what he hope when
i stepped on the block on cords i block shots
i do p-rnos for videos, and got banned from the box
and sickin’ of individuals that see baby individuals
you need to sell to see for a hustler when i pencil
so when you see me on your block again
i won’t be knockin’ on the door i’ll be kickin’ it in
ask your momma ’bout the picture, i done f-cked her too
her p-ssy wrinkled and decrepit like benzino all do
n-gg- see me in the school actin’ wild and unruly
bringin’ that n-gg- lungs bombs we ain’t shootin’

[verse 3: treasure]
b-tch…
“ohh see, my days are cold without you”
b-tch you sound like f-ckin’ boo boo, hairy -ss apey b-tch
only mighty mouse should get paid off that disney sh-t
your crew was whack, what sign are you, a grammy?
ho’ please, who did let it in your guts, irv g?
you had to suck your way to the top
if it wasn’t a shame, i’d grow a d-ck
and pop a seed in your mouth, and let you swallow it
hope that the kid grow up
you stupid sl-ts you can see, how real sh-t blow up
it goes like this:
“baby, baby, baby, when a b-tch like you get a deal…”
see you whack, you a joke and yo mom’s a ho
the grammy ain’t yours and everybody know
vita left the camp but you like
“so? i love murder inc. and i never let ’em go!”

- mr porter lyrics

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