Lyrics:
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'
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
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)
(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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
Like a question posed clearly
And like everything done fairly
We're all even now
We're pegs in round holes
I want it in every single meal
And every
slang?
Skinny nigga from the north side (that's true)
Fuck a Swisher, burn a 45 (that's true)
Keep it hidden in tight jeans (that's true)
Shoot
huh, yeah
Bet I got a number one album
Bet I fall down but overcome every challenge
Bet I hit the Grammies suited up
Get a bag then juice it up by
Fuck what you heard about (They don't know)
Bongo by the way
Fuck what they saying, it's what they do
I wouldn't call nobody out if I were you
Ain't
I got the mic y'all
One time for your mind, yo, check it
It's the chubby curly-haired kid from HTX
Nasty like unsafe sex, you best step when I flex
the window, see the corner that I bent it
It's just so simple when we get so D.E.E.P
Learn a lesson, pick up the album when it hits the streets like
D.E.E.P.
to it
I come down off a trip and now i'm sittin' in an after-glow
My team keep it moving we don't kickback we just do it
By the time we all meet death,
Wake up, wake up, wake up
One, two, one, two
We dedicate this one to the hip-hop culture y'all
Brought to you by the world famous Wake Up Show
.jpg/291px-thumbnail.jpg "Chubby Jackson"){kind=spacer}
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