Let’s Swing
[Verse 1:]
Yeah, yo
You might catch me at the local pub, postin' up Bud Light
Loving life with breathren, step into the thug type
To starting dumb fights, but you ain't tryna do shit
Plus your hat looks like it's four sizes too big
I'll strangle you fags with your doorags
Nice bedazzled shirt homie, you look like a douchebag
And it's too bad that I don't like to wear fake shit
'Cause I would love to smack that face with your chain, and snatch your bracelet
Save it, I'll put your tan face on the dirt
Keep starrin' at my girl, she's laughing at your Ed Hardy shirt
You ain't hardly worth the five cent deposit on the bottle
That's about to smash your face if you pop shit
Don't get obnoxious, 'cause we can step out-fuckin-side
And do you like a condom, fuck with you and bust inside
I'm not impressed by you talking about your gun
And I don't associate your rep with the town your from
Chorus:
Let's swing, when I'm talkin', let's show 'em how we walkin'
Let's swing, around me this shit happen very often
Let's swing, swing 'til there's nothing left to swing at
Hey yo, tell 'em where the fuck you've been at
[2X]
[Verse 2:]
I'll smack the gel off your head while you faggots pump your fist
And you girls are gross, I wouldn't even let you suck my dick
Orange faces and fake tits, nose jobs and spray tans
Covering your busted face with Ray Jams <--(?), that's just disgusting
I ain't even tryin' to hate man
But I'd be a techno DJ if I wanted gay fans
I can't break dance, but I could break your man's arm properly
And I don't give a fuck if the security guard's watching me
I came to get a drink, and find some weird chicks with pierced tits
You came here to dance on some queer shit
My beard's thick, plus I'm dressed like a scumbag
And I still get more women than dumb fags
Your girl's a cunt rag, money hungry, materialistic bitch
With a thousand dollar pocketbook, with nothing in the shit
I'm sick of it, so when you see a dude like me
Clear a mothafuckin' path before I run your jewelry
[Chorus]
[Verse 3:]
Yeah, yo
My favorite shit is the cats at rap shows
With black flows, dressed like a bunch of assholes
Loud mouths talkin' about guns and the gangs they're in
And it's always the wackest dudes that they end up managing
So when the crowd don't show them love they take it personally
Like they do when I don't give them beats or verses for free
Homie, you ain't murdering me, so don't even fuckin' tempt me
If you were hard, instead of screaming you would've swung already
And something tells me that your girl ain't really happy
'Cause while you went to buy her a drink, she was hollering at me
But I don't want that bitch, I got my own chicks
And my crew was packin' venues out back in '06
Please, I throw fists like I throw parties
You throw fits, and hate on me 'cause I spit dope shit
Know this, I do this for the love, but I will fight
And if you think I'm talkin' about you, you're probably right
[Chorus]
