Lyrics:
whoa
Fuckin with me isn't
Good for ya health
Cuz I do hold grudges
Beat yo ass with a belt
I talk big shit and I back it up too
On the track lit shit
be keeping it cream
Till I D I E ill be keeping it cream
And keeping it Sheen that's Charlie by the way
Keep the money coming yeah its always on its
head, I don't need no grip (Woo)
You ain't talking money, you can take a trip
Shop Louie V., 'bout to get my drip
Yeah, you know I got the drip (Drippin')
than ya blessings gon magnify
Do it by yourself so you don't have no one to gratify
You was with some bitches shopping for em eating Italian ice
While I
OOOHHHWEE!
[Master P]
I know a big girl, with a ironed skirt
Give her couple dollars, she'll make it work
I mean holla at me whoadie, you know our crew large
[Erika Kane]
Ugh
Can ya get it up
Ugh
[chorus]
Getty up getty up
Put the dick to the sky
Put the dick to the sky
Can't get enough, ah
Wanna glide
tighter
I spark a L wit a big lighter
Criminal use oblational to get inside ya (and do what?)
And fuck your whole head up
El Cavallo in the house, so
victims of typewriters
The band sounds like typewriters
The big man, he's not listening
His eyes hold Edith
His left hand holds his right
What does
victims of typewriters
The band sounds like typewriters
The big man, he's not listening
His eyes hold Edith
His left hand holds his right
What does
crazy
Momma Sosa come get ya lil baby before I come through to da Chi
Hold up, wait
You live in LA
That's a phone call away
Show ya face and them choppas
Ricky
I ride by myself, cause niggas is iffy
Cannot fuck with you, if you play the 50
I'm tired of these bitches, I'm tired of these lames
Big body,
bad bad bad bad taste
Do I need a big diamond ring, designer head to toe for your high society
No thank ya I'm fine being me, by the way your boyfriend
up But I can pipe up
We can live it up
Counting all the stars
Living in the rush
Big time rush
You big crush
Imma big crush
Feel it in ya gut
I'ma
from cops I’m runnin
(I’m in my bag)
Money Big as Ben I gotta bitch in London
(My money long)
Can’t you see I want the bread in full abundance
(Ya, ya
of the news, but it's still in my head
Charles Stewart still lives even though the sucker's dead
I'ma speak upon it
He is trying to wipe, you, out
Trying
the funkalistic rapper choke an instant
Got mixed wit Malibu rums and Mistic
I'm a whole lot on it yea just a smidget
Just 'cause I live by the beach
Ya my bitch bangs red
Throw it back when we in bed
Got that red beam put it on yo head
Poppin pills gettin benny bills
Ya my bitch bangs red
Throw it
is such a mess
I know it's hard to guess What Goes On In My Head
And you're magnificent standing in your red dress
Sunny California, i'm mad for ya
i miss ya this thug gonna miss ya til i'm wit cha'
it was 90 on the P.E. tour when we mashed down
doesn't even seem like 7 years passed
both
Started out at like twelve
Trapped in a belly of hell
Grew into a man inside of a cell
Yo, anger just swell up
At a early age that develop
Hot head and now
Yea yea yea
I'm finna bag that
I told shorty bring it back
She know the concept
She know what I want
Getting head by stove
Cook it some more
I'm
You say you need space
What are you tryna say (Babe)
What are you tryna say
When you say you need space
You never gave, None of ya time
You were away
this trenches
Get myself on the pitch leave the benches
Stay focused
Put my head in the game
Like
I be steady chasing on my dreams
You know I got big
gonna boo you
How is everybody else wrong but you
Let us know when the rational one
Rolls through
In five years any of these raps hold true
You've
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