Keep Your Hands Off My Girl (Dead Exces. Remix feat. Bubba Sparxx & Jung Tru) Songtext / Lyric

got DCMA I got brass knuckles hangin' off my neck and my chain I got brass knuckles hangin' from my neck and my chain

I got them black devil bags
LV's on the stitchin'
That Martha Stewart'll do it
I got your girl in the kitchen
Put a lock on the coochie before I come for the Gucci
Have her sippin' that Saki, menage her right after sushi
Buy her Dior bags, and bring her Chanel
She just call me hammer time cause she wanna get nailed
I got DCMA, a brass knuckle the charm
Who the fuck he think he is?
I take a broad that was straight married
And turn her to Kate Perry
Pop one of these and have her leapin' like February
High tane propane, ether and a spark of light
Al Qaeda squad that'll flip a fuckin' parking light

Ah ha, ah ha
But the record keeps playin' the same old song, they say
Ah ha, Ah ha
Keep your hands off my girl, keep your hands off my girl

I'm a Beezy, that's just to say the least
Better call this boy a priest cause he feel to go to sleep
Brass knuckles to his teeth, bust his head to the meat
Done caused his Mama grief cause he couldn't control his speech
? binging I'm still trouble ?
A lot of fuckers hate me but tell me something I don't know
Not right now, I gotta go
I gotta show a lotta dough
That some bitch that I was with
I don't know, porb'ly so
I ain't bout to ask you so
If you actin' vaginal
I would let the ratchet blow
Keep it G now that you know
Yes yes yes yes
I am getting at these hos
Either way, fast or slow
Serving them like Mackinroe
Onto other avenues
Tell me what I have to lose
Bitch I got to bring the win
And all of that is sinking in
Drinking gin, blinking in and out of consciousness
Baby turn the lights down, ?????

Ah ha, ah ha
But the record keeps playin' the same old song, they say
Ah ha, Ah ha
Keep your hands off my girl, keep your hands off my girl

Dead Executi-ives
I got A-M-C tattooed on my hand

Now I got a girl, I got a woman
She wants to take a percent, she wants to take a percent
I don't call her a manager, you know I still pay her rent
I still pay her rent
I keep my money in rubberbands in a box in the closet
And my closet's in my house and my house is a fortress
And in the back under the grass in my backyard
By the pool where it's sunny, that's where I bury my money
Under the dirt, under the grass, under the rocks, under the weeds
Got coffee cans, I fill them up but they aren't filled with coffee beans
So when she comes to recollect and sayin seven and-a-half
I don't have to call my lawyer, she don't have to do the math

Ah ha, ah ha
But the record keeps playin' the same old song, they say
Ah ha, Ah ha
Keep your hands off my girl, keep your hands off my girl