Stretch Marks & Cigarette Burns

[Intro] Woo-han What Who han, Woo han What up niggas It's crazy Yo Panchi Call Sha Call Premo Tell them let's meet in the club Yo [Verse 1: Blaq Poet] I came in the club with a couple of goons We was already drunk, now we're smoking the [?] Little shorty on the stage, she was wilding, dancing Whole motherfucking crowd screaming, chanting "Move something, shake something Break something, bitch" I was like "Oh shit, what the fuck they're saying?" But shorty don't care cause she had these niggas paying Had them niggas laying out all their bread Had them niggas standing on their motherfucking head Had them niggas waiting on line for their turn Niggas love stretch marks and cigarette burns [Hook: Blaq Poet (w/ scratches by DJ Premier)] "Move something, shake something Break something, bitch" I was like, "Oh shit, what the fuck they're saying?" Stretch marks and cigarette burns "Move something, shake something Break something, bitch" I was like ("Yo, what the fuck are they yelling?") Stretch marks and cigarette burns [Verse 2: Panchi] Yo this is for my bitches in the shelters who don't need shelter You're just doing that shit for a crib And all my bad little bitches, if your baby father hit you Stick that ice cold knife in his ribs And all my bitches pimp the system, [?] tell your workers Fuck that, you gon' have more kids And you ain't have them cause you need them, but now, you got to feed them So you figure that your ass gonna strip In the club setting, niggas dancing, bra sweating As the bass booms, more sweat consumes And you wonder how thousands can fit in a room The speakers is bumping 'til it damn near pop These hoes is dancing 'til they damn near drop But I sit back and observe the whole scenery And nonchalantly tell you what it mean to me The filer says no boots and jeans I'm in the back blowing trees, dipped in army fatigues Little bitch on my back, when will I learn Not to fuck with stretch marks and cigarette burns [Sample] ("Yo, what the fuck are they yelling?") [Hook] [Verse 3: Imani Montana] Got love bitches, sliding down the pole bitches Twelve to four bitches, don't matter, you're my bitches Stretch marks and cigarette burns, alright, bitches Can't knock your grind, live your life, bitches Get money, be the best at what you do Cocksucker want to judge, tell them, motherfuck you You done mastered the art of this seduction shit See homie came tonight but hopes he can fuck your shit [?] nigga [?] screaming we don't love them hoes Type to question why [?] dance to her pole But he fucking with [?] but she buying him clothes Telling ass nigga, G's don't take you on the road In tune with the soul, can't tell me nothing Have a man [?] lick it up, fronting Who you think you fooling, look at you drooling Love what's she doing, what is she doing Top on the pole, thick, legs in a split Working her way down like she's riding your dick Now you want to lick every burn and stretch marks What else can I say, we the best, ma