Lyrics of 'Drop!' by 1.4.0. Productions

"Drop!"

[Shawn Wigs]
You should be thankful, brother man, life is a struggle
You little Barnum and Bailey clowns, can't fuck with the hustle
You wanna juggle, I scramble on the block like eggs and fuck
Drunk white girls, behind the bush and kegs, take crack to my legs
I smoke twenties of the skama, I don't fuck with regs
Give me a break, I keep my kit kat in my pants
Who wanna blow me, cuz I don't got time for romance
Got a brand new truck with no shoes on the whip
I mean none, that bitch is just sitting on bricks
It's my fault, shouldn't let the spree sit in the hood
With no locks on the wheels, love is love, it's all good
Cop a new pair, that's a donation to the block
Got Roc-A-Fella money, but ain't, the-the Roc
This is Starks Enterprise, fourth coming of the truth
We old school playa, taking it back to Troops

"Drop!"

[Shawn Wigs]
Life is a bakery, smoke til I cough up a long
Got a mean Aftermath like Andre Young
Milky Way rocks, socks with the face of Versace
Times Square posters of me and John Gotti
Snipe with the rifle, double pump shotty
Coked up, slumped over with my nose all snotty
Twenties on the back of the whip, tens in the front
Ski goggles on the Benz, with the engine in the trunk
I'mma gangsta, the shoes on my whip got chips
And I live down the block, because of some slip disk
Rock on wrists, new key slang socialist
'03, putting bounties on the heads of these terrorists

"Drop!"

[Shawn Wigs]
Aiyo, fresh off the Island, I fiend for raw fish
Murder green weed and my heart won't switch
I'm stubborn, tuck ya little brownies in the oven
I bake cakes, milk big labels like shakes
For advances and office space, I want Russell's place
The original's back, fuck the fakes
Ya'll flakes can't rock, we '52 pick-up
New face in the game, your whole crew got shook up

"Drop!"