Lyrics:
on
Now get yo' ass to the back as I'm flyin to the track
Timbaland let me spit my pro's on
Pump it up in the pro-zone
That's the track that we breakin
to silence the lamb and show him who I am
So I just set it off on my competitor
Freakin the funk as I hit em with crazy metaphors
Like back up off me dukes,
to silence the lamb and show him who I am
So I just set it off on my competitor
Freakin' the funk as I hit em with crazy metaphors
Like back up off me
in here
Give me a fifth of, nigga, don't know me like
That i'm way too dirty and I'm way too raw
So baby you gonna take it up down - or nah?
love me, why?
'Cause I give 'em backshots
Niggas wanna throw slugs but I bust back shots
It ain't even about trying to diss these niggas
It's about
just let her ride, I give her the keys to it
Me and my bitch lay back in the Coupe
I'm movin in the neighborhood, I ain't passin through
I woulda been
leading the blind
I did it by myself so it took me some time
No Dr. Dres, no Eminems, no Neptunes, no Timbalands
Just doing him, and I'd do it again
Self
ran right through him
Right through him, like I never knew him
Harlem World'll be the crew of the year
Scream it out, we don't give a fuck who isn't
stank
Walk round the club boy, I can’t even think
Body makin sounds and I think it’s that drank
Run with a sack, I feel like that boy Frank
Give me
love me, why?
'Cause I give 'em backshots
Niggas wanna throw slugs but I bust back shots
It ain't even about trying to diss these niggas
It's about
you gossip like hoes
Poured up a four I move with the wind
The muddy it got me real slow
I remix it sell it for low, yeah
I remix it sell it for low,
said I got the one for you, follow me
Ooh, it's too real
Chromed out mirror, I don't need a windshield
Banana seat, a canopy on two wheels
Eight
no drive-by's
We walked over
COB bandana tied to the end of the AR
Iller than they are, rhymes so sick
Give 'em the day off
This is the chaos, Nicolas
gutta baby who ain't scared to put it down for me,
See this the remix shawty ima keep the cash coming,
Don't guess who played the track and fast
a picture hardcore with a gun
Pimpin' ain't easy but it's always fun (it ain't easy baby)
When it comes to nuts, I bust'em one by one
So what's the 411
Hip-Hop, was put off by your appearance, silver grillz
Black contacts, face tats n' bod tats, but 'cided to give it a shot
N' was blown away by the way you
a picture hardcore with a gun
Pimpin' ain't easy but it's always fun (it ain't easy baby)
When it comes to nuts, I bust'em one by one
So what's the 411
we don't wait up
Elevate the elevator
Conversation with the paper
Money talks it gives me data
If it's time to serve a plate up
I don't ever wait for
the fuck is a list to me?
I'm used to not being on it, I expect it out 'em
Heck wit' 'em, I get my respect without 'em
Ain't really been into diamonds
hang it up
Go somewhere and hang up some 50 posters, PUNK
You speak too late, y'all prolly gon' go up to them awards
and get yo' ass whooped by B2K
I
the bub
Before he give a police to first and last gov'
These dickhead niggas, you shoot 'em they bleed cum
And two pussies they with, just make it
to the
I mean your raps dinner
And I eat 'em up by God's grace I spit it back at ya
I'm mad nigga
Better react nigga
30 For a verse is what a nigga charging
don't want it, You gon' lose
I stay elevatin' like a soul
If don't give me mine
(If don't give me mine) shit a revelation
Killin' niggas by the genocide
what I'm a give em when they land in last place
Hand right by the... they ain't too many seeing us
So they wanna take my gifts
But I wrap em with
_(cropped).jpg/225px-Timbaland_(47903248821)_(cropped).jpg "Timbaland")
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