Lyrics:
We was just talkin bout this at the hill
Now I got bags in the trunk add up to half mill
Smoke Exotic only by the pound I'm foreal
Got this shit
This out to my Dawgs
5 by 4 yeah we our own boss yeah
I write my own bars
Dreaming bout life I be looking to the stars yh
I be Looking to the stars
blame
Take yo fame by taking aim
Come up in an instant
Uplifted from making change
You think it's strange now
Cause yo ass be played out
I see
I got the screw tape playing in the deck
So I drive slowly got them swangers pokin
Yeh the slab hold me
Everybody know me X4
cooler than fan money
on my fuckin' so I ride and I
Swerve, but we too clean fo da
Fuckin' street so I park on the kerb
[chorus x2]
[verse 2]
I got da chevey sittin' high, by
I got da chevey sittin' high, by matchin' corna' ties, Michael Jordans mounted up dats 23's
On da ride (jizzal man)
I got a man in da trunk, I'm
chevey sittin' high, by matchin'corna' ties, michael jordans mounted up dats 23's
On da ride(jizzal man) I got man in da trunk, I'm workin' da alpine,
Is the curse of these hideous witches
Hittin' hoes wit, 44?s and four by fours wit the pain of a figure four
Wounds hit you like a hit will blow
Every
Suicide hood and 4-do's swangin the frame
Cocked up and sideways when I'm tippin the lane
Showin Asshole By Nature so they know what I claim
Ain't no
black velvet and safire
Psycho circuits of carnage that's unbelievably evil
Blood trickling temper of pure golden retriever
I'm inspired by the sun,
technical difficulties
Please stand by"
[speaking in Spanish left untranslated]
Auto four six seven five four three
Equals, the levels, of nobody in this
with America's #1 DJ, Funkmaster Flex
In collaboration with America's, pardon me, #1 independent rap label, Dipset
And right now I'm accompanied by
call it
[Pimp C]
Grippin' grain, switchin' lanes, sellin' cocaine outta' candy thang
Jammin' Lil' Wayne, gotta trunk of bang, 'cause I'ma "Hot Boy",
call it
[Pimp C]
Grippin' grain, switchin' lanes, sellin' cocaine outta' candy thang
Jammin' Lil' Wayne, gotta trunk of bang, 'cause I'ma "Hot Boy",
right, y'all mothafuckaz ready to ride
We gonna take this bitch downtown
By 7 mile west to east, pull up to the club
Park this bitch on the curb, its like
Mary Anne and Wanda were the best of friends
All through their high school days
Both members of the 4H club, both active in the FFA
After
till they catch lock jaw,
I got plans to spend a million and more
Before I hit a million and four, before death,
pull a gun on me squeeze one in me
fuckin' 4 O'clock
I shouldn't sell you shit, but Son, meet me on the block
I ain't got time to waste man, where this nigga at?
I'm in the Brown hooptie,
Our innocence, tortured and chained
Exploited by your own reflections
Your golden kingdoms, rotting infections
Smoking stone, breach of trust
Big
me a glass, lemme pour you some 'nac
That's landy, but if you act right
By the end of the night you get the candy
That's me Popek Monster
Hello
Every day I'd watch them beauties roll by
And sometimes I'd hang my head and cry
'Cause I always wanted me one that was long and black
One day I
to the front of the line
We're gonna stay by
[Chorus 1]
This one's for North Carolina! C'mon and raise up
Take your shirt off, and twist is 'round yo hand
Spin
happen you's the punk
I'll put you in the trunk
You dunk nigga I bring funk
Lets get funky wit' these niggas
Grab the triggas and blast
Lets get
busters by theyself
Celly Cel:
They got no time to be trippin' on
Niggas that's tryin' to keep me down
I put that bumpin' on your trunk
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