Murs – G Lollipops (feat. Fashawn & Prof)

I make music from the heart and what you make is shit
[Verse 2: Fashawn]

[Verse 3: Prof]

They told me real rap is dead, I had to laugh at that
Don’t get high, stay fly and inside your lane
I’m an industry plant, I’m just playin’ the long game

Turn up, turn up, fleek, fleek, bruh how real was that?
With 4 escorts with high test scores
Poppin’ bottles in the club, I’m just chillin’ at the house
Converse with my rollo, I call him Murcielago
[Chorus: Fashawn]
Gangsta ass lollipops
Your bitch got a sweet tooth
And it’s takin’ his toll by the way human go
[Chorus: Murs]
The Leroy and Bruce, I deployed the troops
Your bitch got a sweet tooth
Your bitch got a sweet tooth
Playin’ war games with 4 dames in your name
Aerial attacks and burials and wax

It’s Fash
I’m in the 4-door Ford escort
Layaway on your clothes, another day I suppose
Nigga, you gettin’ curved by labels and hoes
[Chorus: Murs]
In class with them hickey neck sores
How is it dead if Wu-Tang’s Forever?

Bitch never wrote a rhyme in my life
The devil is a liar but these boys the truth
Gangsta ass lollipops
Tame as a derriere but it gets scarier
As far as I’m concerned, I don’t fuck with the list price
Indoor dro grown next door
Shout a couple dudes for a career in rap
Okay I gave her a cavity, you hate that it had to be
When you try to test the best in your area
I make art, y’all niggas make hits
[Chorus: Murs]
That’s too much sauce, that’s too much sauce
You never know homie, I could be a fraud
Casually I turn competition to casualties
Softer than the couch, step up, get knocked out
Where the rappers at? Where the rappers at?
I’m an introvert, a street kid, was never into Vert
Your bitch got a sweet tooth
I can’t give a F-U-C-K what he sold
[Verse 1: Murs]
You call it a triumph, I call it a tragedy
While y’all toss salad, anything for a salary
This atheist chick I’m fuckin’, she treat me like a god
Where did he get the nerve, usin’ no blackberry
Gangsta ass lollipops
Regal Rhymesayer, Mister Laver, your majesty
I’d rather pen a verse, some call it audacity
Had to turn to Pookie, "Baby, that’s too much sauce"
Like an Annabelle tale, but scarier in fact
I’m poppin’ pills in the VIP all day
Lettin’ my nuts hang like Tiffany had his weave
Gangsta ass lollipops
You portrayin’ a rose, I would say you a troll
One thing I’m certain if it hurtin’ ’em I know
Better than the worst but Murs is still better

Rappers these days ain’t been in a fist fight
And after the club, I’m gonna break your wife’s hymen tonight