Lyrics:
now
When I was sixteen, I was right every night
I was spittin' 16's by the light
You were praying for a job, I was praying for the mob
Now we here
cream, ice cream paint job
Whoa!
Clean on the outside, cream on the inside, ice cream paint job (paint job)
Got screens on the dash, watchin' Saved By
yeah baby I?m a mess I know I can not hide it
But it?s too late when you picking up your phone
It's just the way by telling me I need too be alone is
see me lean
I'm tint so it ain't easy to be seen
When you see me ride by they can see the glean
And my shine on the deck and the TV screen
Ride with
luck and your just gettin' by (R-E-M-E, D-Y)
If every fuckin' day you love to get high (R-E-M-E, D-Y)
If life really sucks and you just want to die
It?s nothing playa,
Let a game and muscle,
It?s all it takes to get a gang of hustlers,
I sit low in my homeboys Chevy, my Makaveli hat pulled down by
I try to hold some hope in my heart for these African youths
Coming up where I'm from many traps to elude
Surrounded by mostly white and affluent
as legitimate by critic bitches
So i show my seats that flows to bros.
No person in the world could tell me shit about this
I'd have to be shroomin', danked,
they're complex
I'll tie a duck MC up and pour acid down his lyranex
Chased by Him because his was his beginning
Federal Bureau couldn't even figure
it's time to ride you drive
So I can have the better angle
Killers be killers by model not thinkin'
Straight when I'm on the bottle
You throw one
that he rolled daytons???
He had a little cash, he was bringing home the bacon
He lived in the suburbs, he drove a 'Burbon
Liked to get his drunk on,
by gold diggers (uh)
Rockin' Bejor denims, wit gold zippers (c'mon)
Lost your touch we kept ours, poppin' Cristals
Freakin' the three-quarter
see even master actors lack the authenticity. You cannot
bust into a settlement by storm honking the horns you
stole from those who came before your
thang
Quick to cook and breakin' cane
Straight runnin' thangs around the way
Havin' his money man
A rider from the hood understood by many sets
With
The label will put up big cash, along with the familiar strings
A cameo by some has-been, who wants a piece of the next big thing
We'll cut our hair like
[Chorus - 2X]
We posted up! We posted up from the front to the back
We posted up! We posted up blowing blunts by the packs
We posted up! We posted up
so I'm stayin' by your side (that's what I'm talking bout baby)
Mama we gonna move down south
When this heat cools down, we'll be alright (I think
Eighteen years had come and gone
For momma they flew by
But for me they drug on and on
We were loadin' up that Chevy
Both tryin' not to cry
market
What you think we'll aim for next is the hot target
I'm a sharp shooter lyricist by trade
The terror part improves when they step to the stage
Them
the hellons are pissing in
Position to let the snakes set the bait at heaven's gates
Mastered by pastors snatching collection plates from section eight
Are you a fan of heart attacks that rip through your chest
Ran through your skin
Your head caves in crushed by the pressure caused by sinking
Too
changed
Metaphor, hardcore, ruffneck territory
Brain food because you have to read between the lines
Check rhyme by rhyme and try to comprehend my sings
The man from the north and the man from the south
One by the brain, one by the mouth
Climb through the tube into the cube
Of the perspex Japanese garden
Mad geeked he says peace and ends the conversation with that
Not sure what to expect, but that?s the beauty perhaps
So I rush out of my crib followed by
Discuss these cash cash cash by bob tom Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In