Artist: Stat Quo Album: Summertime Grind (S) Song: Summertime Grind Typed by: Gustavo (Hoes For Me) [Stat Quo] Feel it, feel it In that soy sauce, a day in that six Sippin' sake wit a slant eye bitch She's wondering how I get chips I'm wondering do she lick pussy can she suck dick Blackberry ringing constant for the ghost writer Killing shit without a resume murder for hire Bare witness to the birth of an empire Diddy told me when niggaz hate you - they really admire Couldn't help but feel his spot Saw biggie in his eyes, nigga no lie Vote few for my take - street car I design Let me ride 'til there's no tread left on the tires And that's word to the chronic Even now I'm smoking kush, feel I gotta pay homage Young muhammad being broke is something I can't stomach So I vomit when the money ain't coming For the record I ain't puke in a minute Or the pearls spinning moves buy it all - fuck renting As the judge hands down another sentence Putting periods on nigga's lifes Getting paid getting pussy nigga getting high Getting frustrated cause all this wack shit is getting by I guess, they getting it, while the getting is good 80 percent of all rappers end up back in the hood Hand them niggas in cleats and sneakers suffer the same fate, poverty please to meet you I let other people's failure be my teacher So I hustle like it '89, where's my beeper? Street sweeper get the brooms out Leaving kids in your girls mouth I let them run around her throat like when schools out We at the W, that pussy sweet, where the fuck is you You know the hoes don't get to see the house Make 'em pay for direction, pimp shit Let them trick spend - take 'em out These bitches say I got issues - magazine With my face on the cover, make my exes - scream Like the performer of Billie Jean I'm fucking wit the doctor Demerol in my bars - detox, knowing I left the roster Fuck wit the safe you gonna see the chopper Plenty moxice swagging Anaheim in Hollywood Middle finger to the paparazzi you know I keep it hood Get the picture, if you don't, then you probably should You don't understand cause your ass never understood Eating good 'til it turn into a food fight Niggaz claiming they need money but really need advice Start wit a slice then bought my own dominos I thought my problems would up and go But more money more pot holes in the road A drop top would leave you more expose In the booth, in my church clothes Telling god what he already knows It's my sanity I do it for Fuck the world 'til she's my hoe Pockets on rex-ryn on my feet bitch Fetish for the lettuce but I'm careful who I eat wit Niggaz 'll kill you at the table, quick Have stuck up steam, lost, feeling sea sick To move forward, you gotta get over the past If not, go around and tell bygones to kiss your ass Toast to the time, no champagne in my glass Blood sweat tears - flying high hope I never crash Cause I'm just trying to be who my father wasn't And represent for my dead cousin (whaddup Courtney) At the bank like fuck it On my summer time grind, stat quo you gotta love it [Outro] You know what it is capiche? Yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah haaaaah ha ha indeed I'll fuck your shit up q Back on this shit We still here baby Statlanta forever