"Firebird" lyrics

Bitch, I don't fuck around, I'll put yo ass under–
Bitch, I–bitch, I don't fuck around, I'll put yo ass under–
Bitch, I–bitch, I don't fuck around, I'll put yo ass under–
Bitch, I–bitch, I don't fuck around, bitch, I don't fuck around

Trash it like a Firebird, skirt 'till the tires burst
Pontiac, Pontiac
Dope wrapped in cellophane, I need to drop, Wes Chandler mane
Roger that, roger that
I ain't make it to 11th grade, he ain't make it past 23
None of that, none of that
Meet ya maker, I get it made, now I creep with that Minute Maid
Sugar-free, ho

Bitch, I don't fuck around, I'll put yo ass under–
Bitch, I–bitch, I don't fuck around, I'll put yo ass under–
Bitch, I–bitch, I don't fuck around, I'll put yo ass under–
Bitch, I–bitch, I don't fuck around, bitch, I don't fuck around

Tip-toein' out my grave, with some knock off Timb's on
You're a star, you'll just make a udder like where milk from
I'm from with where they deal some, I'm from where they buy some
You from with where they grow old, I'm from where they die young
Forever young is just a song, baby
We know this life ain't that long, baby
My people tell me I'm living wrong lately
Rocket on my waist, I call it Glock McGrady (Swish)