Lyrics:
of other rappers that be spittin' hard
Yep yep he had five up on
When he passed him that styrofoam
The Easter pink, heard it in a rhyme before
Finally
(Boom, boom, boom, boom)
I know some niggas that's behind the wall
Did like a dime and leave with a scar
Niggas that's still gettin' money in
Prison, rock
spot ya five points
And I'll still serve that ass
This J-Zone talkin to you boy, come on
[Verse 1: J-Zone]
Now that every ball player want to rap
Check it out, I'm the C-A-S-A, the N-O-V-A,
And the rest is F-L-Y,
You see I go by the code of the doctor of the mix,
And these reasons I'll tell you
(woo!)
Y yo sé que muchos no lo entienden (woo!)
Porque Nicky tiene lo que tiene (woo!)
Cuáles son los duros, dime quiénes (woo!)
Tú te haces el loco,
got the Lincoln right here, belonged to Loretta Lynn
The coalminer's daughter used to drive it to town
It's yours for a song and five hundred down.'
One, two
One, two, three, uh
Yeah
I was working part time in a five-and-dime
My boss was Mr. McGee
He told me several times that he didn't
1 2 1 2 3 4
Yeah
I was working part time in a five-and-dime
My boss was Mr. McGee
He told me several times that he didn't like my kind
'Cause I was
[Melle Mel]
Melle Mel with the clientele
I'm gonna rock your chime and ring your bell
See I'm so bad and I'm so light
A lot of rhyme on a dime to make
shit out of luck
Because the West Side ain't takin no shorts on the dime
So fire it up
Now, now, now, nine in my hand, ounce in my crotch
Diggin'
shit out of luck
Because the West Side ain't takin no shorts on the dime
So fire it up
Now, now, now, nine in my hand, ounce in my crotch
Diggin'
'Cause these crackers tryin to take a nigga life and they rights
I'm surrounded by fake-ass crooks
They swear they kingpins but don't have money on they
composure like a soldier in a line Peepin how my dough's up i get dozen's by the dime
HUSTLER OF THE YEAR and i aint never broke a crime
And i dont need
by the lace
Bitch keep on fussin, she leavin the place
Drip, Drip, Drippin in Slime
Plugs only know what I pay for the dime
She wanna come but I
sobriety?
This shit 'bout surviving
Niggas either pop 5s or drop dimes
And I aint doing neither til I cock mine
Hit you like a sawn-off
Tell me what's ya
Anyway, I be ridin down West Tennessee in my wagon
Late night therapy, I imagine
That I was riding in somethin that I could brag in
Dime by my side, she
attached
Now I'm running with the bag like we doing track
And you waiting by your phone trynna get a match
18 on my grind
5am we Up all night
In the booth
I done caused a few kids to be here by themselves
Lord I can't forgive myself
Merta for hire got blik in my belt
Pull-up onna nigga make em melt
I
The kids next door will leave you stranded by yo lonesome
Codename 5ive get em gone for the duce one
G double o all the troops at a ten hut
Walk down gang
Right down Cherry Ave by the cleaners, she got her cherry popped
The cherry colored Honda was the getaway
But hell could wait
Y'all niggas cap like
what if what if what if
Legends never die
Shoulda coulda woulda shoulda
Shouldnt be alive
Almost died like forty times
First time I was four or five
games I'm out that door
Seven, eight
Only rollin with this nine by my side
So fuck I need a dime piece for
Eleven
Pillow talkin to that other nigga like
At least, not like number four and number five
19 is fast approaching
So you rope her in
Triggered by lusting
Seems like puppy loving
Is missing, while you're
eyes count to hundred I'm a get that load
5 6 7 8
Get to the bag I don't mind all the hate
Keep it hundred homie writing like I got that cake
Everybody
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