Lyrics:
shawty your too fine
Lil mama got a fatty I'm lovin' your waistline
Just like that I'll get the dollaz if ya wine
Twerk that nasty drop it a few times
gave the world, dab fever check
My receipt is thousand dollar sneakers
Stop and get a play from cheetah
Quavo Derek Jeter, keep a street sweeper
I'm
This is fly, I, spilt my drink, tryin' to get by It's wall to wall packed with ho's inside nigga Call the homies, let's go ride
Chorus 2 Tell me how you
kicks ain't shit, your whips ain't shit
nigga, I'm the shit...
[RZA] (Girl)
What the fuck y'all birds talking about?
Get the fuck out
You get it, when you can get it
Drop by drop
Little by little
We all going down with the system
We all villains
We all victims
We all, we all
2-G, feel me
[Hook]
Now get your hands up, this is a motherfucking stick up
Don't even get up, just give your fucking shit up
And give your grip up, but
grieving
Your meal is made and it's time to chill
You buy the black Mercedes Benz with the gold to the grill
Cruisin' up the ave while your friends get
done a lot of crazy things in my days,
killing to get that weapon named, robbing just to get paid.
Now how much more can I bear, and I explode
knowledge, yeah
See, I saw a nigga get killed back when I was a toddler, yeah
So how I'm 'posed to love, girl? Now how I'm 'posed to fear? Yeah
I talk
cousin was callin' my phone
Like, Blanco, let's get him, I know where he headed
He need to be deaded, let's go
So we hit the road, gone off them shrooms
won't
He get, he gets real high he's up inside we start to cry
Just because I'm really poor, living in me is so poor
Deliver me there to be judged by
kryptonite and the nigga Joey Crack know,
Whoever said "Game Over" must of had a hangover,
Get money, my driveway sponsored by Range Rover,
I got blood
could get it from Three
Papi didn't have it, I could get it from E
Niggas need dank, you can call on me
Hell I come through, it don't matter if you
In the war zone with the hittas
Yeah, check gang though
I'ma pop up on you in the latest
Count my racks up, take a little dope
Get my pistol, I
At 3:47, more than one hundred and fifty rounds of ammunition
Were fired into your apartment
Which was about two hundred yards away
A few moments
the two-seater
So put your Porche up, (uh)
Get your divorce up, (uh)
I'm sure she'll sign it when she seen me put my doors up
Mane, them niggas only wanna
at me
So get off cause I control the stage
There's no dissin' allowed
I'm in my own phase
The girlies say they love me and that is ok
And I can dance
to lose
Gunna Gunna bought a new Jimmy Choo
In the penthouse fuckin' hoes by the twos
Told 'em get out, called a whole 'nother group
I brought the mic
And any old girl who's in between
Lay yourself down by the side of the bed
Oh, you naughty girl, you know you tickle me red
You look so dumb and you
I flip and scrip 9 minute EF three
Playin by different bitches 'cause my face in the paper
Profile done although she couldnt describe me I got
EP Eight stpes to perfection
The sum of each part forms an octagon
Where rhyme styles get sparked
Verse Three: Bigg Jus
The holy
written by rookies working Montreal Expos
I don't care if you act wild, bring your raps to the studio
I'm a get in your booty, yo
I'm a set up a bag
to get bum rushed
She's strapped an' she's ready to bust
But at the swap meet you don't pay tax
They're movin' out fake Louie by the batch
Swap Meet
faster than +Flo-Jo+
Floatin' through the 3 by 4
Rim cocked to my left low
I'm the boy that got dough
Talk to my dirty mo
Ooh, I'm gettin' it wit
.jpg "Get Low")
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