Lyrics:
blowin' exotic)
(Party girls be gettin' it started)
Fill my cup 'til I'm lethargic (hey)
Might not make it home 'til morning (yeah)
Pockets fat, yeah,
Wake up in the mornin' feelin' like P Diddy (hey, what up girl?)
Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit this city (let's go)
Before I
Squeeze 'til it's empty, it seems so unreal
'Til the gunfire got you usin' tables as a shield
East side, west side, niggas gettin' chastised
Droppin'
screaming, frowns I'm tearin' it up)
(Hit don't stop til the mornin' comes)
Bangin' (umm) bangin' (umm) bangin' (ummm)
Bangin', bangin', b, b,bangin',
about
and watch me shoot you
[chorus]
I woke about 6 in the mornin
gotta get paid fuck moanin and groanin
hit the block get the truck rollin (rollin)
by
Mac play, quiet town, tie it down
I supply it now, by the pound
Might front you with a cube if you buy a pound
If you didn't try it then, why
lite-ass nickel plates
So if you want to misbehave nigga
I'll have to kick it to the motherfuckin' grave digger
Yeah motherfucker you heard it
Doin'
Is it still, is it goin'? (Yeah yeah)
(Alright)
so we gon' do this one like for the RattPack and shit, is it recordin'?
Alright for the real
the place
Comin' down in the slab, and I might hit yo way
I got taught, by H-Town, I represent my state
And everything I say, I make sure I say it straight
the Dude
On the way to the telly, we was bumpin' R. Kelly
And right before I cut her, it was confessions from Usher
She ain't used to a thug, she love
CHORUS: The Godfather Rock TE ]
Once upon a drive-by it was me and the Ganxta are?dd
MC's try to sweat the dawg, this is what he did
[ singing ]
Time is
this bitch and this niggas singin
Comin through just like hell, the bells are ringin
Big Moe wreck one more, so we can hit the store
Cause it be goin
dumb, call it Kelly Bundy
Got a big house with a backyard, fish tank with sharks in it
Real nigga, I'm authentic, I'll fuck the bitch 'til she short
Intro - R. Kelly + (Nick Cannon)]
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh (Oh, uh, haha)
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh (Kels!)
(We in the club singing this for money, ha!)
on these bitches is a fetish (R. Kelly)
Fully loaded .60s smoking on a seven (all ready)
Your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter
Still in a box,
the bread, gotta get it by the loaf
Skip from a Bentley to a 350
I wake up in the mornin' and see how it hits me
At the end of the day I'm just a redneck
folded fifties
Y'all old cops lost it
Drinkin' the scotch barfless
I don't like movies
So I hit up the Box Office
You the softest, I'm takin' ya honeys
(rest up Gucc'), tie up the boots
Roll up and eliminate yutes (paow)
It looks good on the 'net, you pussy
Live in the flesh, your niggas are zoots
In your mind monsters are crawling
You're not alone, we'll fight together
Press on til it gets better
Wage war inside your head
Throw 'em out and leave
shouldn't be whinin', but abidin' by the law
Now it's obvious that you're lyin'
With so much drama in the industry
Hip hop police are listenin'
Be
hoes than Chris
More hoes than R. Kelly, I put that on my piss
And, no, it ain't a diss if I ain't talking 'bout Karrueche
I put this Roman candle all
the shortest skirt
I think she with it, but I don't want to just hit it
I want to get explicit
And if she kiss it, it's bound to get good
Tomorrow mornin
blurrin'
Whoa-oh, I can't see shit, my words get to slurrin'
Uh-oh, you can call me R. Kelly now, you're in
Trouble, what's occurring before, after,
put the money up, I know I'll get it back
Both of my pinkies got riggity-rocks (bling, rocks)
I could get birds by the flickity-flock (brr)
Shoppin'
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