Shawn Wigs Match Boxer
Yo, son it's a new wave, I grind til my matchbox glitters
Deep sports massage, and five Swiss baby sitters
Oil me up, the Tin Man's tin king
Got a rusty pipe with silk sheets on a flight
My name belts spell Wiganomics in brass
Life in the fast lane, kept my foot on the gas
Haul ass and these streets is, dying for sale
This ain't a remix, I'm layin' the first bricks to ground
The foundation, play me in heavy rotation
F..ck peace, see, I hold weight in population
That's my word, deeper than your Bourne Identity
Stuck in the G-35 Coupe Infiniti
Sweat balls, rock a big heat in the summer
In my two thousand and five Ironman hummer