Turnt Up

Microphone check, I make them all bounce

Every teller in Bank of America, make them all count

You gone need the whole staff to add up the amount

It's going to take to pay me off to keep me out your house

To keep me in my zone so that I don't zone out

I'm Rich (Boy) and Po (low the Don) like Zone 4, thoughts is deep like Tone Loc

Walk with me like old folk, cross your street a score's goaled

I don't rap, I hockey rink, cause my flow is so cold

I am on my "mmhmm," they are on they "Oh, No!"

I am really in here/hair, they ain't real like Soul Glo

Don't you know I'm so sure, them nigga's got no glow

Find a master 'fore you can come back into the dojo

Lupe got his mind right, nigga this is my mic

And I've come to take it all back like Miller High Life

He must not be tied tight, back against the wall

He will throw a ball like he playing Jai Alai

I'll do the register, you just get them fries right

I don't trust America after watching Zeitgeist

Take a look at my stripes, chest looks like a tiger arm

and I'm hot as tiger balm, fire like a five-alarm

And it's set to Tire Barn, Get your fire-fighter on

I ain't worried about you hoes/hose, I don't even need to roll

I turn down your ex like how you put your tires on

Once I get these tires on, I buy a bomb and tie it on

And ride this around the entire song, find a line to drive it on

Park it near a metaphor, wait for it, the timer's on

You can turn your hydrants on, I'll just turn my wipers on

Wipe it off then wipe me down but don't forget about my bomb