No More Mr. Nice Guy - Totally Insane

I’m not a fairy tale, I rock the mic very well

My hand on a trigga, nigga making much mail

Off the rap song, never had a crap song

Don’t like losing money, niggas will get stole on

By ALB thugster, known around town as the neighborhood mugster

I slang D and bring G’s in the pocket, she roaring like a lion and i’m soaring

like a rocket

Young bitches on the jock of the Ad-Man, i would hit you with a left but that’s

my bad hand

I’m the ace in your face, why you trying me?

The Insane, Direct from the Backstreet

Mike D hooking shit up proper

Don’t give a fuck about a bitch or a copper

Young gangster from the heart of the dark side, the ALBs in the house and i’m

on high

Young raw ass hustler with a fat dick, no time for a whore i’m trying to stack

bitch

Ad Kapone out the ho with a new clown, to the G, the V, and midtown

And for the Menlo and that tramp hoe, try to play the ace but that’s alright

though

Fuck around with the Ad ain’t nothing nice, the ALB is the code to the strong

side

Don’t get me wrong ain’t nothing weak about P.A.

them niggas make mail and the

bitches don’t play

I ain’t talking shit about saving EPA’s life, this is going out to the whole 415

To L.A., Bombay, and New York too, something to slam out when you gone off

true

Two stoges two my friends keep making mail, this is gangster rhyme nigga not a

fairy tale

Don’t bring Adam bitch you better save the drama, i ain’t nothing nice you

better go and ask your momma

She know the dick is good, don’t get me mis-understood, i have the crown while

I’m diggin her like Robbin Hood

Stealing from a bitch and give in to a whore, oops stealing from the rich and

give-in to the poor

To break south when i pull the fat dick out, the cock is flamme Ima stick this

dick in her mouth

I asked Flam and Flam it’s flammable, Mac said it’s hot enough to light a candle

So ima past and keep on counting cash, your on a dash to add your just trash

Been a maggot ass hoe all your damn life, settle down or be a black mans wife

But not mine cause I don’t like your kind, tell your friends to go with Ad bitch

No more Mr. Nice Guy

Yo it’s me!

Back on the mic flowing some mo shit, niggas just locked on my nuts with a

tight grip

Left for a while i came back with something new, and now they want to jock me,

the M-A-C

Swinging on my nuts for what reason, a different girl everyday a different time

every season

Make no mistake to get caught up, you’d respect my main hood the way i was

brought up

Showing no mercy on you bitches, im stepping hoes in they neck and examining

jaws on them sissys

You play the game or you’ll checkmate, you get frustrated cause and get slayed

So carry on sucka you can’t handle, put you in the dark room, Shh,

light a candle

So now your left all alone you start screaming, but everybody is gone

Now you know whose in charge, its the Mac-10 young nigga so cop a squat

You know the rules so learn to obey, even though you can’t handle the weight

Mo money, Mo money bitch what the fuck is wrong, I’m sitting in the cut

drinking striaght get gone

You bitches all jerkin talking about you getting raw, my nigga TC straight

steal to the jaw

It ain’t nothing new it’s just and everyday thing, you bitches going back and

forth its all the same

My nigga can’t stay on his bitch without a pause, you stupid ass bitches is

the mother fucking cause

I’m letting hoes know they gotta slide to the right, cause left is the jeff and

nigga just might

Give a little sweet, give a bitch a little twist, like my homie Ad give a bitch

a fat dick

Clipping ain’t nothing hoe i got to keep a fat bank, a short pack of hen a pack

of fat dank

Cause if it ain’t money hoe, it’s all about me i fade stupid bitches that be

jocking for the green

Rollin on crome is a part of my life, I’m not giving you money bitch you ain’t

my wife

I’m a money making nigga yous a money maggot bitch, going for my pocket trying

to get me for my grits

You would take a nigga and straight straight do him, but i ain’t got no time

for you funky maggot booty

The M is the place and the M is what i spoke, the line is the rhyme and there

is No more Mr. Nice Guy