Lyrics:
know what the game's all about
It's bout feedin the family, not freakin in the Benz
Instead of rentin, pay for that roof on your head
And stop pimpin
Yellow diamonds in the light
And we're standing side by side
As your shadow crosses mine
What it takes to come alive
I'm in the fucking mood
Bitches
by the Karats
Before I head out
Ask the mirror on the wall
Mirror mirror mirror
Who the freshest of them all
Outfit crispy
Pocxets never empty
Gotta
are, by far
They ain't tripping on me, they wanna fuck my car
Look a nigga up and down like he a superstar
But they ain't tripping on me, they wanna
Let's go handle this shit, right motherfuckin' now
I've been hardcore from a baby, baby
I need my head checked, need to get my head set
Your soft
superstar
That you see on TV and what is called a gangsta
Hah, hah, hah, you really think you could be
Just with the hat on your head and a fist like an O.G.
talk real big cos it never goes bad
I'm boutta take off and you cannot stop me when I'm in my bag
I'm boutta go loko
Heard your girl she like coacoa
Im
know what the game's all about
It's bout feedin the family, not freakin in the Benz
Instead of rentin, pay for that roof on your head
And stop pimpin
Hit Arroyo Park, we had tapes for sale
Got a paper bag full of that, can't you tell
It's funky, everybody nod they head like this
I said bitch,
you down easy like ?
Cosmic the audio rumblepak in your headphones
Loop Troop hated by everyone
(There is no way that we can rock after them)
Hated by
the bag I feel complete
She begging for bags, she got a disease
She pulling me close, I gotta release
In bed with your hoes, cant get em to leave
Bae beg
as it can get)
One, two (one, two), three, four (three, four)
Hardcore (hardcore), hardcore (hardcore)
Yo, watch yourself for your health I'll snatch
bag head, amma get that shit men
Billion dollar nigga, watch ur way. I'm coming with big step
You know am a bag head bag head am a bag head bag head
what you're doing
When you walk on by like that
Yeah yeah yeah
You're turning heads in that dress
Cause you're just so damn bad
They hating
They mad
field
Nigga platinum so real, watch your head bounce back
Went from Screw tapes, to making motion picture soundtracks
Man we the shit, you ought to call
artist to superstars we become
So we glow
And live up to the dream as we zone
It's the moment y'all been waiting for ain't it?
Ain't it?
The facts i obtain
and bags from Chanel (Uh)
Issey Miyake, smellin' up my Kawasaki
Draws by Versace or them joints by Jockey
Clock me workin' real hard for a nickel
(Uh, huh)
layer, motherfucker say your prayers
Hail Mary full of grace, smack the bitch in the face
Take her Gucci bag and the North Face
Off her back, jab her if
your friend, be -movie stories never end
Rock the house, shoot your mum, cheap thrills wrapped up in bubblegum
Get down, burn the cat, the hardcore
How many know what funk is? Raise your hands
You ready for this world?
"I can get real raw" plus my style is hardcore
I'm Craig Mack, comin in
the money
Show me the bag
Is your boy superstar HypemanRicky the Hypebeastoflagos alongside Dj emmbassey the drummer boy
Dance like that
Do like that
Dance
Quarter-million in a baby blue Goyard
Buy it cash then I go in the motor
Drive fast, ain't no pullin' me over
Play with bags, you can tell by the odor
No
I️ can give you what you want
It's okay I️ got it all
Put u in designer now u lookin like a superstar
We up in this party you dancin tryna get
might as well give you all the head you want
Oh shit, here we are, champagne, caviar
Poke your lips out, blow them candles, you're a superstar
Oh shit,
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