Lyrics:
a Falcon, Cougar or a Mustang
Me and Freddy B used to hit the turfs
With a bag of tapes putting in work, bitch
In '83 you hit a house party
A dollar get
Me and Freddy be used to hit the turfs
With a bag of tapes puttin' in work, biatch
In '83 you hit a house party
A dolla' get you in and a dolla' fo'
on the dotted line
Cause now you're mine
Hey, hey bitch
Hey bitch get up it's time to go to work
Time to go to work bitch, it's your boy Lil Jon
Never will I
what you see in the streets
Despite what you influenced by, the life of crime has many downs
A little bit of ups, and everything you do got
It's the return, East Atlanta, Santa!
Off the wall, off the chain
Off the top, I'm off the leash
So many freaks coming by the spot
Had to move,
clip
Who you know could fly by '05 then '06
When they see that new V the dope boys go crazy
Yeah, You know I still fuck with State P
Still fuck with
load up
And come looking
But on another note juice album
I understand you dropping single
After single man
You give' em a lil taste man
You getting they
nigga, K-Rock
Talk shit, get hit in your jaw And you know we the best of the most
Fuck with us, you better pick your casket like, bitch
Lil' bitch, I do
[Verse 1]
Yo yo yo
Now ain't nobody fuckin wit the mastermind
I'm like Einstein, a hundred and fifty times magnified
Nickel and Teslin, Jon Von
How freaky can you get to a long fat dick
Hella freaky like i said to a song that hit
I'm the dirty rapper Too Short, the triple X
Run up in
For your eyes, do you understand?
For your eyes
You probably grown now so this song'll hit you
If you're hearing this, unfortunately means that I'm
I'ma get by
Hit 'em with the Tek Nine
Better quit lying
Best not disrespect mine
Cause I got it
Said, Lil bitch I got it
Straight to the grave, I gun
and let his bitch drive it
I'm talkin' violation
My lil' niggas out here robbin' niggas for
The love of ballin' like Sanaa Lathan
And they some cold hearted
Walking wit steppas you can’t reach this level
You hit the wrong button you get played like a album
Hoes throwing salt pick a stone like Rosetta
I
a crip or a blood but my gang with me
Me and my niggas don’t dance we hit the money dance when the
Cheque come our way
I was raised by Hip-Hop Tupac
(These tears I cry)
(Sure won't be the last) ayy, rest in peace to Nip
(They will not be the last, no) the album was done, I had to go back in
and I’ll do it by my lonely
Suite life, I’m about to pass the blunt to Mr. Mosby
He was dumping in drive. I call him wonton, Tony.
Want him dead
feelin like the best, nobody fuckin with us
We done turned to a bygone don crew
We got the semi Kimora like Djimon Hounsou
A lifetime criminal, live by
a comeback like I'm Tony Parker
Call my assistant I need me cover
My album be fire
Ill still drop another one
You mimick my style
You got nothing on none of us
Just keeps reminding us of the struggles
They start pulling up pictures
Of us getting hit
By dogs and firehoses and all that
You know like, my daughter
[Lil Wayne talking]
Uh-oh, uh-oh
You know how we do it
Weezy and Petey, baby
Ya'know
This here is 500 Degreez
Holla at 'em dogg
[Petey Pablo]
Still fightin paranoia
Anxiety at an all time high
Better days that I'm pushin for
Are what help me get by
Sheez still roll brown haze by
(Anybody)
Don't act like you can't get touched, peeyimp
Yeah, my dude Bone Crusher
(That's right)
Lil Jon and the Eastside Boyz, David Banner
And E-40
(yep)
My momma knew I was (was)
Everything I knew I was, I was destined for greatness
I knew I would be rescued by greatness (uh huh)
My first album
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