The Rush

Nah-hah!
I don’t do all that talking, man; it’s it’s… one way or the other.
You comin' or you gonna watch another bitch leave with me, you know the rush?
That’s the way shit go, hehe!
I’m a fuckin rapstar!
Fresh off of the plane I jets off in the range
First class seat but this WestCoast ain’t the same.
The rap game’ll bring stress, fortune and fame
An' slow drive-bys like when they aired out Kane.
I’m in the S-5−5 with blew out chains
You body me, you body them — an' they pull out prayin'.
My only wish is to find ya catcher,
Lay your ass on a stretcher.
Betcha, getcha — ass out the hood!
All I got is rap an for that — I spazz out for good.
That’s my income; it keeps me in paz an Hollywood, I’m hardly home,
When I leave the club the party gone.
An' I’m pissy of petroleum trying get my own home.
My name’s Bank$ baby! — I'm top rank lady.
I gotta go grab your coat itch you ain’t crazy.
I speed-off — gainin' and rushin' to bend her over sumthin',
Then I’m bumpin'! — The volumes to the Max and I’m frontin'.
All of a sudden she’s down on the humble for a feel
And I’m driftin' in an out of lanes, fumblin' the wheel.
A couple of miles later I’ll be comin' on the grill
Then it’s back to the hotel to chill. — Ma' give you the rush!
Damn maaaaaa'…
That lil' outfit got my 3rd hand hiiiigh.
And I need you to understand IIIIIIIIIII
Really ain’t got a lot o' time, bitch shout ya mind. — It's meeee!
Damn Blood!
Don’t you wanna get out of them handcuffs?
I ain’t gon' love you like your man doooeeees
I ain’t gotta lot of time — Bitch shout ya miiiind!