Lyrics:
me out, no doubt, I flip the game and re-route
I check her in wit Magic Man Juan, or Pimpin Ken
I just got back from Milwaukee, the All-Star game
Not
a runna.
Baby got them curves just like a Corvette with a big ol'
Booty like you was a Humma, heard you wanna take it up
Wit a balla thinkin' while you
jumpin fences
Loose chain comin in as 18 inches
Fifteen five blunt gettin wit the quickness
Im no lawyer I'm no doctor
Gucci mane a mobster I smoke it like
the day one of my homies want to squab
I'm still rollin wit The Lench Mob
(AmeriKKKa's most wanted)
Back in the day I dip my shirt in dirt
see the frozen ice
They say my, my, my, my
Anytime they see them big things only cause I
While y'all gotta club date, I'm fuckin' wit arenas
Gotcha man
the problems and straighten the mess
So nigga come wit ya pistol and nigga come wit ya vest
This ain't the east or the west the 'bama weed or the stress
I'm
So dem a go a dead even if dem run go inna di Bible
You roll wit' Jesus Christ? Mi have twenty-four disciple
Tech, Ruger, Luger, Brico, Beretta,
and straighten the mess
So n**** come wit ya pistol and n**** come wit ya vest
This ain't the east or the west the 'bama weed or the stress
I'm Young Pimp from
dat ass)
When I catch ya down bad
(Bitch bounce dat ass)
Y'all know when I'm in da club y'all know what I'm lookin fo
Lookin fo da bitch wit da
a cruise in a Porsche wit the trunk in the front
She had the Jocko Bijou sandals, told her hop in
The coupe blew her mind when she couldn't find the door
Rick Ross: Trilla
Bird-man: brrrr!
[Webbie]
The 'lil soldier wit nothin' clear to see wasn't nobody handin' him shit
Ridin' round town glamor
Imma make em back back
And do it like a boss that
You knew that had scratch
A bunch of hittas and hustlas
On the team wit em
So don't watch me man, watch
It's 50 dent & S-N double O-P
You don't want no snoop & you
Don't want it wit me
Every time I come around they like "Oh No"
I get to tripping, slap
Y-yea the flow so amazin' nigga!
Uh, it's yo boy young
Uh huh, I brought Rell wit me
Timbo on the track
J-Breezy! Take it easy I got ya homie
Let's
And ain't no catchin TIP silly
But you can try if ya can
Get ya ass laid out, right beside ya man
Sprayed out da clip
Left ya wit ya face in da sand
Sent da
post
Wit hundred spokes
Buckled down from the Moet to the Lex GX
Spoiler kit front and back chrome
Mac one laid back
Thought I wasn't when I was
Haters nigga, Sqad Up nigga
Fuck JAY-Z, nah my nigga, I
Fucks wit' JAY-Z, sorry
You know what I'm sayin'?
Fuck JAY-Z, no no no, I
Fucks wit
on the blocks, slangin' rocks
Runnin' from cops
When we runnin', we hummin'
Now gunnin' and you get done and
In the city wit' no pity
Down wit' Thug Life, we doin'
I tell em' da bitch ride da
Dick like a new Honda
Wit da cops behind her im kinda
Sorta watcha calla'
Superstar now some on tryin
Fuck some
soliders
Ride out
Yeayea i'm from the hood where the drop-outs
Is bangin' for the feelin
For houses wit' Tvs hangin' from the ceiling
(Lloyd Banks) we
mother fin
Hustler music, to ride to it
Yo, fly to it yo, goddamn
Missed and hit a nigga in
His head with dis one
Ima paint da city red wit dis one
Ima
I'm lookin' for a man who will pay my bills
Pay my car note, gimme what I want
Keep a sister real tight
And ladies, if you wit' me
Say 'right' - "right,
to cool wit u cool wit u
Sure that's your lifestyle ain't nuthin' wrong
To be honest girl it kinda turns me on
I ain't even tryna to gash up a happy
[Treach]
This ain't got shit to do wit shampoo
But watch your head n shoulders brother older bold enough to fold ya
Yo I told ya a raid afraid of what I
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