Maxin In The Shade Lyrics - Spankmaster - Kool Keith

Hey girl, you frontin on that phone 

That cellular phone ain't workin 

What's that? Pre-paid, from J&J 

And your voice mail is off, cause I called you 

So you're extravagant, think you all that 

There's some corn flakes in the kitchen 

And turkey sandwich on top of the 'fridgerator 

That's right girl, don't roll your eyes at me like a alligator 

Put your Chanel shades on, walk with your thong in your butt 

Runnin your fingers through your cheap raise(?) 

Look at your girlfriend with her hair weave fallin out 

On my phone, runnin up my bill 

Talkin to broke-ass drug dealer friends 

To Western Union you three dollars from Cancun 

You're now in the red with your real hair stickin from under your wig 

Showin behind your head, with real, pimples on your face 

You can't disrespect me in my place; them cigarettes smell 

Lookin for NBA players to take you to eat and you don't even have gas 

Actin pretty you need to pull over in Taco Bell 

I seen your kind before with mice spittin 

Pumpkin seeds in your living room floor 

I know your type.. I know your type 

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Maxin in the shade, I know your type 

Maxin in the shade, I know your type 

Maxin in the shade, I know your type 

You can't even cook a hot dog or pour a glass of milk 

You'd rather walk around with plastic coats over your head 

In the rain lookin for a coach bag and Moschino belt 

You need to see how McDonald's feel 

Stop lookin around like you 'Superfly' and Ron O'Neil 

I'ma let you know how beef and a quarter pound is real 

Now go get your autograph and take a picture with the Cheese-burglar 

Let him know how you got your hair done 

And you're movin like you're pregnant this month 

With your +Belly+ stickin out like movie and soundtrack 

Photos 

You dress up with diamonds just to eat 

Don't even finish your plate complete 

When the bill come, you try to act like you can't see the receipt 

Walkin up the block with Vivica Fox type girlfriends 

Jockin a seventy-year old man, in a mansion 

With a seventy-five Rolls Royce, that look like Alfred Hitchcock 

Maybe he can afford your liposuction stretch marks and tax deduction 

The second verse is still introduction 

So you actin like a sad puppy 

Lookin at me through the fish tanks like a guppy 

(Why you have to look at me so stupid like that?) 

Maxin in the shade, I know your type 

Maxin in the shade, I know your type 

Maxin in the shade, I know your type 

First of all I bought the food you didn't even say thank you 

Now put on your bibs and chew your ribs 

You got grease on your hand and your favorite skirt 

I'ma call your mom after you get off work so your head hurt 

You wasn't invited to the concert that's V.I.P. backstage 

Who's this? What you doin here? 

I'm ashamed of you, I'm bein straight 

I hate you, I'm not gonna face you 

I'ma take you to White Castle asshole 

I don't wear platinum, I wear gold 

My maturity ability is laughin at you like comedy 

You need to sit down, pull out a Swanson TV dinner 

Peanut butter and jelly'll fill up your belly 

Bread in the cabinet start grabbin it 

Kool-Aid and lemonade get comfortable under the shade 

And let the barbershop, give your bob wig a tight fade 

Maxin in the shade, I know your type 

Maxin in the shade, I know your type 

Maxin in the shade, I know your type 

Maxin in the shade 

You slept with the wrong man 

All seven of your big-head kids are ugly