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saigon - pop quiz (multiple choice) lyrics
[verse 1]
first question for mothaf-ckers that’s spittin’ this “i’ma thug sh-t”
you claim you blew out a n-gg-‘s brain, well what color was it?
a) reddish like the dark shade of oxygenated blood
b) brownish like water that’s mixed with dirt to make mud
c) whitish like the man that created the virus to slay us or is it
d) grayish like the gloomy or rainy day is
second question strictly for players so state your biz
tell me exactly what the definition of player is
a) duke that rock links, flossin’ the club and pop drinks
b) the jail n-gg- that stash the mop ringers and slop sinks
c) the rich rapper who depict the pictures of bigger sixes
d) that broke n-gg- f-ckin’ the richest n-gg- b-tches
movin’ right along, question number three is for the females
never generalizin’ i’m into details
other than the fat chicks that’s too quick to strip and spread
what is it exactly that make a honey a chickenhead?
a) if she’ll f-ck her girl man on some shady sh-t
b) go to clubs but’ll leave her mother to baby sit
c) swap s-x for materialistic objects
d) all of the above, love, you f-cked up
the fourth question’s a question that’s still in me
who do y’all n-gg-z think that it was that killed biggie?
a) southside crips cuz puffy owed ’em a grip
b) some crazy ‘pac fan that flipped and unloaded a clip
c) missiles from pistols from government officials
d) the same cat that came back and then sang “i miss you”
[chorus x2]
you never was a killa; you never bust a gun
you never held the spot down; was never on the run
you never lived my life; you deadin’ it wrong
cuz you never did none of the sh-t that you said in your song
[verse 2]
with the strength of a hundred baboons
i’ll beat your eyes black as a f-ckin’ racc–n
leave you covered with stab wounds
dead in a public bathroom
you like to tighten your face and cuss when you spit
know what i noticed? that tough sh-t is just when you spit
i couldn’t picture you bustin’ a clip
i could see you suckin’ a d-ck or prolly getting’ f-cked with a stick
drama with me, son, your baby momma will be
found in the woods, hangin’ by her thong from a tree
you spit my life and want an award
but you can’t get my stripes cuz you the type to run in a war
slung jums in front of the store; done it before
held guns, i’m talkin’ at least a hundred or more
should put a gun to your jaw, to one of your wh-r-s
f-ck under the covers; we all lovers under the floor
[chorus]
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