Mr. Steep Pockets

[Chorus: Tech N9ne]

You tell 'em that we stack if anybody ask ya

Beef with the N9na then you're gon' decease you bastards

[?]

This Mr. Steep Pockets, bitch!

[Verse 1: Rich The Factor]

I'm a, businessman who handle business stuff with big fishes

Ten-figure digits, 21-inch, too wide for body business

Stackin' in's, packin' Mack 10, and then what's it?

Six shots, [?] through close range, got whole thangs, for 1-7

And if you ready to get some cheddar, you best to roll with me

'Cause I'm winnin' while they spend, I'm holdin' out [?]

Tryna roll out 10 for your call, lieutenant

If that don't work, that's when our haul is out

Call the flame, I'm hella [?] like Tech N9ne's [?] a godfather

If I was to cop 10's without, you're shut down

Your four, a hundred rounds, bust the towns, you can barely hear

It's Kansas City for the shit

So why you suckers hatin'?

We paper chase on [?], petite Lexus coupe

Let's have Capris, or a Oldsmobile, Chevy too

You petty fools, best to recognise the [?], mane

That's where I stay, we all play

Now I ain't

[Chorus: Tech N9ne]

You tell 'em that we stack if anybody ask ya

Beef with the N9na then you're gon' decease you bastards

[?]

This Mr. Steep Pockets, bitch!

[Verse 2: Tech N9ne]

Our pockets are deep, deep

Six feet under six feet, that's where the Tecca Nina sleep, creep

With these bitches in my city, keep my relish hella steep, peep

The style-lee, niggas wanna fine me-me, with the nine milli

You can find N-9-N-E, on the Fi-V-E, six, with a bitch

All over my dick, so quick, that it's sick, trip

We the greatest, to you fiendish, and I mean this

I'm a motherfucker, who a motherfucker? Tech N9ne

Bitches love my space age pocket figures

Symptoms of a steep pocket nigga

Now, that I'm on Juan, a brother's, Quincy Jones, and MidWestSide, I'ma ride

In a drop-top Jag in a mini-mansion, with a Tec-9 on my side

And we got them pockets, nigga

Playa haters wanna stop it, nigga

At a ATM, a nigga with a gun behind you, yellin' "drop it, nigga!"

When they see you in magazines they dream of havin' that green

So they claim, they hang out witcha

Catch you slippin' and take yo' picture

Keep your money and your women down, nigga

That shit's on the low

'Cause it'll be a shame to lose 500 G's over a muh'fuckin' hater, and a ho

Been livin' in Kansas City for 26 years, from Way-Money to 56

Used to be broke but now I got hookers all over my dick

Bitches know when I get paid

Constantly gettin' my dick laid

In Cali I gets fucked off for "Questions", in KC, it's "Mitch Bade"

These niggas call me down to wreck some shit

Flex with the best so I meshed and mixed

Donnie Qwest keep my Benjamins crisp

And they know, that's why they sellin' Tecca Nina to flow

Haters can't stop it, 'cause Kansas City niggas pack them steep pockets

[Chorus: Tech N9ne]

You tell 'em that we stack if anybody ask ya (Hahaha)

Beef with the N9na then you're gon' decease you bastards

[?]

This Mr. Steep Pockets, bitch!

[Verse 3: Snug Brim]

Situations, come clean with the cash gotta chase it like Bill Gates

And pull ma, every year with the Yay'

Keep a nigga hustlin' for the pay

Started off with seven grams, flipped it twice, re-copped the stash, snow

Trickin' off for the ears I'm proper, ten on that ass, it makes me chemist

With another toy for the scheme, "get cream" our motto

Work my way to a home 36, get rounds today, well that's tomorrow

Tryin' not to see pain nor sorrow

We get our [?], stay close to my house, follow the leader

Bitch niggas, we stackin' chips, 30 ounce, six figures

Call me a Midwest Desperado, ho, 'cause of my chip game

I'm plastic, baggin' all you ho niggas that's hatin', representin' K-town

Face now, pay later, bust a hater not bubblin'

You strugglin'? Well I'm hustlin'

Tryna make my money, keep doublin'

For I bust it (Weed), when I get a chance

Walk three biddies in a dance

Pursuin' dollar bills with a plan

Season, take the cross and they shame

I should be hot like Satan

Yes, awake, man, expand your Visa

Put my cheese in the safe hands

Fuck the K-clan it's paper season

Nigga, to hell with braggin', either, gotta have it, flowin' like Niagara

Cheese and big blunts, the door don't snatch and Jack flies and aggra'

Snug Brim, spectacular, [?] one of the best

Go for the scrill, ask Young Richard, Tech

[Chorus: Tech N9ne]

You tell 'em that we stack if anybody ask ya

Beef with the N9na then you're gon' decease you bastards

[?]

This Mr. Steep Pockets, bitch!

You tell 'em that we stack if anybody ask ya

Beef with the N9na then you're gon' decease you bastards

[?]

This Mr. Steep Pockets, bitch!

You tell 'em that we stack if anybody ask ya

Beef with the N9na then you're gon' decease you bastards

[?]

This Mr. Steep Pockets, bitch!