Ill Leet - Matter of Fact (feat. Foolio) Lyrics

Ill Leet, ah
(Turn it up!)
Ayy
Pick up the cheese, go ham in the bank
"Aye, what you up to?" Damn, watcha think bih?
Matter of fact, I don't give a damn what you think
What is there to say? I am what you ain't
I'ma make it work, I can what ya can't
Shaq in his prime, slam in the paint
Back on the grind, nigga, I don't even skate
Pussy boy the type to go file a complaint
You a snitch, word goin' round, you a bitch
All you do is talk boy, you sound like ya bitch
Have yo ass lost, get found in a ditch
Ridin' round town sippin' Crown in a Vic
I'm the shit, you can't even tell me it
Trapped up, you can't even sell me it
Back up, like I fell and shit
Back up, boy ya smell like shit
Ain't shit sweet, we don't like you
But the penthouse suite, and a nice view
Shippūden, Jui-Jitsu with it
Hadouken, yeah, Ryu nigga
In the coupe, flyin' right by you nigga
Problem with the crew,
We gon' slide through, nigga
Took his bitch, but I ain't try to, nigga
Now that nigga sick like the swine flu hit 'em
I ain't phased,
Nothin' new, I do this every day
Told me not to do it, I'ma do it anyway
Matter of fact, nigga, I'll do it in ya face
I ain't even know that you was in the race
Aye, f*ck it bih, it is what it was
Somethin' like a pig, had to get it out the mud
Bitch I ain't the one, you shit outta luck
If I ain't ya son, ain't a bih I can trust
On my mammy
I'm too hot, nigga, fan me
If a nigga plot, tryna scam me
Green with the shot, nigga, Danny
Drummer on the block, Nick Cannon
Hit 'er with the block, bitch spammin'
No this ain't pink, it's salmon
Ayy, look over there, jitt jammin'
But my gun ain't, it's blammin'
Pick up the cheese, go ham in the bank
"Aye, what you up to?" Damn, watcha think bih?
Matter of fact, I don't give a damn what you think
What is there to say? I am what you ain't
I'ma make it work, I can what ya can't
Shaq in his prime, slam in the paint (Six!)
Back on the grind, nigga, I don't even skate
Pussy boy the type to go file a complaint
Pull up that bag,
Call up lil' bro, he gon' spazz
Like a drunk driver, he crash
We on yo ass
Pull up on you, drop the mask
Just like a toe, he got tagged (Bah!)
These niggas pussy
All of my opps, they some rookies
All of my opps, they some pussies
Sweet just like cookies
I'ma rock out to the fullest (Rock out)
Pussy, we bully the bullies (Aye, on gang)
Pop out, SK on my waist (On my waist)
Pull up on a nigga, make his pussy ass race (Make 'em race)
Shoot 'em in the throat, then I shoot 'em in the face (Shoot 'em in the face)
Cops got behind me so I had to jump a gate (- and I'm outta there)
Ah, pussy ahh boy, you late
Pull up on a nigga with the motherf*ckin' K
Brr-BOP, then let that bitch spray (Bah!)
Leave a nigga dead on his motherf*ckin' face (Bah, bah!)
Niggas want smoke, we gon' clear it
F*ck around catch them bullets flying like Spirit
Niggas talk down on me, I don't even hear it
If it ain't God homie, I don't even fear it
What you wanna do, nigga? We can do it
Pull up like U-Haul, get this bitch movin'
Pull up in Duval, 6, I'm with Fooli
Shootin' in this bitch like a flick, it's a movie
I keep that lead, if you wanna test me, nigga
Praying that the feds don't arrest me, nigga
Got ya bitch wet like a jet ski, nigga
Choppa got kick like it's Jet Li, nigga
Get yo ass lost on the wrong side of town
Boy yo turn over if you step outta bounds
If a nigga cross me, he ain't bein' found
If a nigga jock me, bitch it's goin down
On gang