Artist: Lil B Album: Thugged Out Pissed Off (Mixtape) Song: East Oakland International Typed by: AZ Lyrics Still in the cuts with the money on the frontline My life's so real it's somethin like drumline Your hear that bass... that's for the streets Argh he sell a little weed, that's enough for me to creep Burglary; it might turn into a raid, I need that mother fucking cake I don't celebrate, my birthday is the worst way if they still rap It must be birthday Cause I keep getting presents or maybe its Christmas I got trees... in the ceiling, you know what I'm sayin... Catch me on international that's my other traphouse I buy pussy from the bottom and I'm up 50 from the crackhouse... They stole my swag and they... went Pop... I might have to go Pop, Your trendy The only time that I shop, is when I'm talking bags Or when I'm talking blocks Literally; I'll serve your fucking block, I meet bosses... That ship off orders. I meet bosses that front off money You need a mil? Yeah! Bitch fuck with me! You're thirsty bitch, I'm talking bout a dinner plate I'll smack you bitches and I'll smack the dealer I came from the crack bitch, ask yourself who realer? If we really got beef, I do no mask killin' I'm my own bodyguard and I'm my Own J Simpson I'm my own Al Capone and bitch I'll definitely go get em' Give up my seat, but I can't stand snitchin' won't fuck me in my ass, cause I'll kill your bitch ass Got a lot of hate and pain, I wonder where that sprouted from? Most dudes you know like me; You know they outcome I got a lot of problems, so I smoke blunts I (don't) give a fuck about a charge nigga its waterfront. West Berkeley! Yeah Down to South Berkeley, I push that line up every time that I grind up Bang! And make sure that my soldiers line up Because everytime I open up them blocks I want them lines up