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Song title: Mr. Pookie - Comin Hard

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[mr. pookie]
Now uh, which way he came, left or right, you can squash that
I came from all directions playa, can you top that?
I got em waitin mr. rippla, how you droppin it?
See, ima drop it wit a cd full of major hits
I got tha switch when its click, Im in tha zone fool
And plus you know that Im gon rip it fo tha song through
Its time to shine, time to polish off my game right
Krunk like its game night or a roy jones title fight
Wit combinations that can spark up in a blaze fire
Im gettin paid while you bustas goin haywire
So wha you say now? I brought tha ruckus
Testin tha bustas, got sumthin to say but no they love us
Indeed, I bring tha trees when its time to choke
Ready to beat up on tha foes at tha end of tha show
This time you know, my crooks stay on top of they game
And when you least expect it theas anotha hook to tha brain

Chorus(juiell)

Balla, if you a balla tell em how you comin hard
Hustla, if you a hustla, baby hustle like a superstar
Playa, cause we some playaz and you know jus who we are
Crooksta, if you a crook tell em how ya comin hard

[mr. pookie]
Right back at cha, awww hell naw I wont ease up
Dont got me krunk now, picture me wit cheese stuffed
In my pockets, I bout to get it on a paper rage
Gotta make my paper change, increase my paper weight
Set tha stage, aint got no killaz on tha payroll
Only my crook playaz wit me from tha get go
Let it be known Im from dallas, thats in texas
Bring it on, as if you think you can outflex us
Betta bring yo best, cause Im runnin round these fools
I been waitin for this very day, straight up clownin fools
Ill face him, who, you, wha, thats to all my foes
See we gunnin when we runnin playa, knockin down closed doors
And uh, down to strike a pose when I finish rippin on these figgaz
Makin sure my presence felt, boy I been bound to come up wit cha
Its tha mr. comin hard on em, bring tha track, ima bomb on em
Kevin a put tha guard on em, ima bout to storm on em

Chorus

[mr. pookie]
Now you see in a change of clothes, still creased down
Got my ice on my fingers and struttin hard through tha town
And I cant forget my crown, flip tha brim like a pimp
Slide my fingers across, thats to make sure of tha fit
Got tha ladies checkin this and my hair whipped up
And a sack in my pocket, french connection in tha cut
Valley ruff on tha mic, when Im chillin like this
Thats when Im ballin wit my crooks feelin tipsy and shit
Im comin dizzy wit hits, and cant nobody fade tha gs
Im as witable, hitable no he strappin on these 3s
You can try, you wont succeed, Im to playa like, playboy
I know some tru cats thatll whoop you and yo homeboys
Me and pookie solo johnson in tha old school
Clubbin wit no rules, peepin tha foes 2
Eatin some soul food and now we choosin
Its mr. pookie neighborhood watchin, crooks is movin

Chorus