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J.R. Writer
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Why Try
Jr Writer
(Chorus)
Why try your gonna die aight
Pull up in the truck with the pistol cocked
When I pop, I'm wavin bye bye
You dont drive by, all you do is drive by
They call us birdgang, you heard fam
We fly high
(x2)
(J.R. Writer)
Okay, writer,
my my I'm skyhigh,
The fly guy,
Pull up to your bitches gate with a whip from space,
I'm talking Sci-fi,
Why try to out-do me,
I doubt truely,
Listen J is an ace,
so stay in your place,
I aint never been a slouch scooby (nope),
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Listen your not a sharp,
Iam gettin that guap to start (chi-ching),
You aint seen bigger M's since the Mcdonalds arcs (no way),
These gangstas park their hearts in front of your bitch,
and turn and look at her like who you comin with miss?,
your my son get the drift? (get the drift?),
so right now I be dissin myself (how?) if I call you a son of a bitch (oh),
give it up for the dips (why?),
cause its seems so simple (but what?),
yet Iam so sick like a neyo single,
I will blast em (blaow), leave em in a casket box
sleepin with the saddest ock,
for leapin like an astronaut,
I keep the tec sucka (so what),
So I dont care if you pops marry my mother,
I dare you to step brother
(Chorus x2)
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