Lyrics:
money, we ain't learn how to act
All in the V.I.P. spendin' four or five stacks
You can tell it's T.I.P. from how I bend my hat
Send the waitress
grow up top
Light flash out di crow whole block
Topboy Charlie weed yuh shot
Load up van fi likkle p innit
Break it bag it run it
Man neva rest
Trackateering Music
Man, y'all did it with this one here, y'all
People love to use that quote
"I'm doin' it for the culture"
But what culture is that
on with the shades on not by myself but we on this Island
Aye
Now bring the hook
Heart of a hustler
Mind of a G
I been getting money you can't hate on me
I body your man
Do a drive by on you live with a body cam
Fucking with Feddie then count your bread and your blessings
Fuck over Feddie, they find
niggas say)
And if you talkin' at a party and we talk too much
Then, uh, we goin' home with me
Now if you came with a friend that don't wanna do my man
Can’t believe
This must be make believe
G’s and C’s all up on my sleeve
Icy ropes hang down to my knees
Candy trees with the crystal leaves
Picture us married you and me k-i-s-s-i-n-g
I remember the first time girl you and me f-you-see-k-i-n-g
She was the modern ices honey dog she
[Chorus: x2]
Picture us married you and me k-I-s-s-I-n-g
I remember the first time girl you and me f-you-see-k-I-n-g
She was the modern Isis,
pump)
Who am I? (The S-N-Double-O-P)
Nickname (Silky Smell)
Last name (D-O-double-G, pump, pump)
The behavior and the flavor that I found
Makes me
Man, don't you know that I'm loco?
I was chillin' right around my way
21st, east side of the Beach
This motherfucker ran up on me
Talkin' shit
I double my cup
And I sit back and smoke a white grape blunt
Smoke on a white grape blunt
Young man giving no fucks
Young man living my dream
How
away
For the last 15 years, I been reppin' my state
I knew the real DJ Screw sip grape by the case
Eight's over ice straight product of the H
feeling Misch Porter
True say I might step with Harlem
I'm a hundred with gang
And by myself I'm spartan
Them man there doing up bench
Cause they ain't
x2]
I put the D into Drugs an' the G into Guns
I put the D into Dubs an' the T into Thugs
I put the C into 'Caine an' the P into Pain
The G into
tryna impress, G
Man, can see that your man-bag's empty
No need to pretend
I don't wanna hear you talk greazy again
Never shot food, never shot no
confetti
Can never quite on ballin
Swush that hoop like Kd
Put in my blood and sweat
Now my money stick like candy
Man this shit come daily
Goal keeping
you the worst
Punk ass nigga kinda jocking now
You ain't down cause I trust nobody
[chorus/master p]
I trust nobody x2
[master p]
One by one in this
Spoke to the yard man wanna know the p to the 45 like Alhan
Spoke to the runner said he's got more than a oner and he's still counting
Will get that
Man, Redman, B-Real
Shout out to Wiz Khalifa and Sen Dog, you know! G-yeah!
I ain't here to bring the East back (nah), I'm here to relapse
An hour
Your school get dazed like G by G
Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill
Take nuts and screws out ferris wheels
If you ain't Missy, payin' no bills
uh, we finna do this shit like this
It's like I tell my niggas, keep your eyes on these bitches
They love to G a nigga young dumb and gettin' riches
'em G stacks
And got them corn rows to the back
I ain't really trying to be picky
But if you give me somethin, its got to be the sticky
Doing by
way past quarter to three (I said Hands Up!)
I'm good in the V.I.P. I got my hammer right here with me (I said Hands Up!)
You know when you party with
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