Lyrics:
sure
But that was my, that's who I had in mind
Boom
But so, how did the album come about?
Aight, so check it out, this is how it came about
I had
clip, I bet you niggas gon' dip
Or get hit up in yo
[Chorus]
"Back, front back, front back, fr-front back, side to side" [Repeat: x2]
Never let hoe
me
I'll be in another room when I hit from the back
Not to mention my refrigerator's taller than Shaq
So yippie-kay-yay, yippie-yie-yie-yo
If you
to you broke niggas, make my nose runny
No excuses, done my dirt, got my shoes muddy
Eating good off y'all niggas, getting kinda chubby
Raised by them
Come get it, first wreck the ton, then let the Pun hit it
Split it in half, watch the gas, baby, take a bath
Be good, I might put away the wood
Come get it, first wreck the ton, then let the Pun hit it
Split it in half, watch the gas, baby, take a bath
Be good, I might put away the wood
the dog ass niggas stare and have them drooling by the lip
Ready to give up every penny even tho they ain’t gone hit
Just lead him on with conversation
of thick
You make the dog ass niggas stare and have them drooling by the lip
Ready to give up every penny even tho they ain’t gone hit
Just lead him
light
Now that's the name of the song, yeah cool right?
Chilling in the hot tub by the towers in the daylight
Don't want to listen, soon I'm going to take
soda
Cook, connect, named Sosa, Spanish chick by Ola hit it in the chocha
With the Testarossa, hit Daytona, fuck the law, we soldiers (uh)
I'm 'bout
opps that we gon' die about this shit
I come from a place where niggas die about a diss
You ain't in the hood so we can't slide by your strip
Cookin'
I show up in yo' hood, I bet you niggas won't trip
Once I empty out this clip, I bet you niggas gon' dip
Or get hit up in yo'
"Back, front back,
Yeah
Tryna figure out the difference
But I think, think the lines are starting to get blurred
I'm in a strange place
I feel like Ma$e when he
Yeah
Tryna figure out the difference
But I think, think the lines are starting to get blurred
I'm in a strange place
I feel like Ma$e when he
hit wonders nothing more expired your temps
CIA went there they really ain't care to see me back in school I Learned a lot though just hand me a plate I
I met you in a club in Atlanta, Georgia
Said me and my homeboy were coming out with an album
You looked at me like, "Yeah, nigga right"
But you
(Yeah)
(Yeah)
(Yeah)
I touched down now I'm in this shit
This is chess, you want checkers then you finished
All that talk don't mean nothing in my
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
different
I don't have a album but I'll post a snippet
She say "I love you" that's too much commitment
(Huh)
Fall out just for attention
Can let em all in for
to
Just read twelve books by bell hooks
This is like hearing hip-hop’s Mel Brooks
But I couldn’t pass up rappin’ on this dope beat
Even though I haven’t hit
the bigger person, just barely by an inch, tuftey
Pulled up in that bulletproof
Got ya bitch screaming like pac back
No coupes, only big bodies
So my rooftop
I said what's up, Sony's in the cut
I got labels on my line, I let it ring, I don't pick up
I got two goals on my mind, to be the king and don't give
album made history (truth)
I made 'em change the banners, and I wasn't in their plans
But that's too bad 'cause I'm cemented (yeah)
Y'all didn't think
.jpg/291px-thumbnail.jpg "Chubby Jackson"){kind=spacer}
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