TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA They say I calmed down since the last album Well lick my dick, how does that sound? Um Smell my gooch, you can kiss my buns And I don't give a shit, bend my rectum Somebody said, Benz, make her dunce You think you're getting cash? No bitch, you're dumb The only thing that you're gonna get is this dick Wait, turn this up bitch, this my jump Here, take a goddamn picture And tell Spike Lee he's a goddamn nigger And why you're right up past the lotion In fact, for the next box, life's that fun And she comes over, I take picture Instantly put it on Instagram And suplex her off a building if I get bunned TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA Why y'all so salty? Hot tamale is on And canapé, bitch, I'm on And boy, bad's in the ball Bring back the horns, I was playing in the beginning And tell Tony Parker that I found his vision And if he's tripping off my sneak dissing Then he has to deal with me and my minions Get a Beamer, E-46, have you heard 48? Motherfucker, I'm great Girlfriend, Prince, always cover the sleeves From cuts from the beams, cuz he's puffing the trees, please Fuck I look like, got a new bike tire Never pop like the puss on a bitch dike Think I give a fuck, I knew I'd go bald And I bust in her jaw like, fuck that disease My urethra, hole that I pee from Bigger than an OB, snack on a reapin' I turn that snare down, I'm back like a Rosa Parks fair On the same damn bus like you're going to jail now TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA TAMALA Why y'all so salty? Hot tamale is on A can of pink bitch, I'm on Your boy is mad to the bone How much wood could a woodchuck chuck If a woodchuck could ever get a fuck Bitch suck dick, motherfucker, you and your opinions Yes I can, sir, what a lump is Sicker than a last bar, boulder on my seal Colorado, fuck Michael, bitch, I'm badder than my B.O Buy me a lunch, tryna dance during chemo Before they repossess our strong armbands and tuxedos Why y'all so salty? Hot tamale is on A can of pink bitch, I'm on Your boy is mad to the bone How many facts can I wipe up, Scoop? Well, if it has a dick, maybe two or six Until the end of the way, I'm about to lose my shit And shoot through Wayne LaPierre's head with a crucifix How many ladies in the house? How many ladies in the house without a rich nigga, huh? Nigga, I don't got it Nigga, I don't got it Although the jargon's about to change I'm still a nigga Nigga, I don't got it Nigga, I don't got it Although the jargon's in my palm for the jerkin' Hope my mom don't catch me Try to set blue to the red too Fuck ocean, I don't need blue Drive, bitch, you see it Up and down, friction, make a sound This shit's kinda disgusting Fap time and before I flatline Clancy chimes in my room and catch me This shit's so damn embarrassing Like, oh shit, I'm fine I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine Yeah, yeah, yeah