Lyrics:
lyrical renegade
Or get stomped on locked on by the pitbull inside of soul
Capitivated by demons but never been underestimated
The Devil himself knows I'll
go, let's go)
Feel me all my chicos, all my Jamaicans all my blacks, all my Haitians (put your hands up)
Feel me, cause they know I'm gunna run till
1, 2, 3, 4
Get you a bitch up on the floor
You gotta get up and get down (Walk!)
You gotta get up and get down (Walk!)
To the West, march
out to all the refugee gangs around the world
Signal, signal, y'all need to chill with the drive-by's
It was the fourth of July I heard the cherry bomb
oodles of noodles (woo)
And testing me is like pitbulls put up to poodles
My rap career goes back further than yo' father hairline
It's Ludacris
to be
Every sun is just a star up in the sky
Every man's just a woman in disguise
Every moment is a moment that goes by, by, by
Lay your hands, lay your
care where you been
I'll wash my hands up when I eat in a bit
I want it no homo, bro skin on my skin
If I put it that shit up then you best dap the fin
die bitch
Hit kids not Juuls
Big teeth big bite, uncaged pitbull
Bang in this bitch, hang up the bitch
Stop calling my phone, lemme hang up your bitch
man, then clap your hands
If you venture up the wrong road, then the circumstance
Will be crucial, I got hundreds of rhymes that'll suit you
So listen
That's five times I ain't picked up, your bitch still calling
I'm super ghetto, I'm still with the shit
Still pass the steel to my nigga, hit a lick
We
That's five times I ain't picked up, your bitch still calling
I'm super ghetto, I'm still with the shit
Still pass the steel to my nigga, hit a lick
We
(Two Of Dem)
A Big Profit In That Greenery
We Not Stoppin By The Beach Just For Scenery
When Here It's 45, Up Here It's 65
Meet U In Carolina
Please
No autographs
No pictures
No introductions
It's the beast
Hands up (hands up)
Hands up (hands up)
Hands up put them hands where my eyes can
step aside and gotta get in the world, eh eh eh eh
Adrenaline running strong, another sip I'll be gone
Hey DJ, turn up my song
If you trying to turn
Money my pocket, Hand on the rocket
You ain't built like that pussy boy you just talk shit
Money my pocket, Hand on the rocket
Fucking with the squad
Just throw your mother fucking hands in the air
Represent your hood like you just don't care
Set up shop never close and get riches
And never stop
winners can't lose it, unless
Errbody got they hands up like (Oooh!)
See a bad bitch like (Wooah!)
This whole damn city fuckin' go
But this is how the hood
Yeah
Yeah
Now if you lov'em put yo hands up (yeah)
If you need Him put yo hands up (yeah)
Can't live without Him put yo hands up
Put yo hands up
Put
Lil' spoiled bitch, two thousand on shoes (two thou', shoes)
Walk in the club with one bitch, leave with two (yeah, dos, two)
By myself at the top like
constricted by the motherfuckin' boundaries
An ounce of E or a pound of dro, couldn't place you on the planet web
I'm transmitting life from bro, brah, brah,
This is my muh fucking house
Hey I'm by the front door
Here about a blond haired bitch named Sisco
She'll do anything for daddy man the bitch go
Tell
dopest heat on the street
Three G ski, Slimm, Big Boi and ths is C B-O-N-E
If you need some back-up find Jerome,
ya girl gonna give you grief at home
Just
life
I've had all the cars, all the cribs, all the money
In my life, in my life
I've had my ups, my downs, I paid my dues
Earned my stripes
But nothing
hand on that pussy
Got my left hand on that booty
And I got my right hand on that pussy
Up in that six hundred
You ain't even seen it
Touchin' on it,
.jpg/217px-Arena_Corinthians_Opening_(cropped-Pitbull).jpg "Pitbull")
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