Lyrics:
earrings
Benjamins blastin, doin my thing
That's when I seen her, her name was Keisha
Ass-wide figure, just had to meet her
I said, "How you doin? My name
sayin'?)
Ayy, how you guys doin' today?
You know what I'm sayin'?
(And get your Wock')
I'm kinda bored so I had to call up my bro
You know? (Money way, you
blown), too gone (too gone)
Don't know how the hell I'm gettin' home
Hey, snap ya fingers, do ya step
You can do it all by yo' self
Let me see you do
blown), too gone (too gone)
Don't know how the hell I'm gettin' home
Hey, snap ya fingers, do ya step
You can do it all by yo' self
Let me see you do
yehh girl ya know ya better save me dat
i hit da spot im tryna unlock where da crazy at
Madd we're like dems guns and them roses
She got me surrounded by
dis ya song ma, dis ya song
How you doin ma, dis ya song ma, yeah come on ma,
dis ya song ma, dis ya song ma, dis ya song
I go by the name
some like the mizix
Caught into they physics and how they wanna dizip
Yo be careful, it ain't ya ordinary liquid
The first time you sip it, you might
of a break from the norm
Just a little somethin' to break the monotony
Of all that hardcore dance that has gotten to be
A little bit out of control, it's
What are ya doin' on Friday night
Can it be done by two
What are ya doin' on Saturday night
Can I come over and spend a little while with you
I shot out Waguan that my Jamaica bredren
A little time from the rat race it’s so refreshing
Back in touch with my soul letting go of ego meditation
a lot of dough, and a little bit of time
Bitch I wanna fuck, I don't wanna know what's on ya mind
Infamous up in this, you know how we get down
Is
of a break from the norm
Just a little somethin' to break the monotony
Of all that hardcore dance that has gotten to be
A little bit out of control, it's
god somebody's doin a good job
Impersonatin him J-Hova spittin game from da range rover what da fuck is y'all
Doin in da third lane get over slow ya
Whoa, whazzam with it bitch?
How ya doing? where ya been?
You don't check on yo lil dawg?
We supposed to be like kin
My lil nigga
We come up together
my high breakin' rules
You got ya P's mixed up
You ain't no pimp
You's a forty
I spit for major mix
While you make tapes for ya homie
to the west coast, all my bitches
Bitches who get props 'cause they know who can get got
Who they can get shot by the way ya nigga's hip drop
Walk up in
to the west coast, all my bitches
Bitches who get props 'cause they know who can get got
Who they can get shot by the way ya nigga's hip drop
Walk up in
If you doin' what you want they gon call you insane
If you doin' what they want you get nothing but pain
You could mix the good n' bad they still got
gon puzzle ya body together
Playin wit birdie but I ain’t no jit
Pull up on 30s like how do Dey fit
I do you dirty hoe, you ain’t on shit
You lookin
mouth
Beatin it out, yeah we freaked it out
You sure know how to get a brother off off ya good when ya skeetin it out
So we seepin out, creepin out
Hittin
dis ya song ma, dis ya song
How you doin ma, dis ya song ma, yeah come on ma,
dis ya song ma, dis ya song ma, dis ya song
I go by the name
And hit you with lines of how your O.R.
Good with seein in the field, good with the solo
Half Spanish nigga cook a brick with adobo
Smoke weed holdi'n my
everybody wants to do it like me
No you don't do it like me
Nah, no we ain't the same
You're never gonna do it I'm doin' it again
Boy Better Know, were
don't know the whole fire
In the dark, shoot sparks like rim with no tire
I don't deal with the lames, I'd much rather blow by ya
They known to spit
_2.jpg/300px-Little_Mix_at_the_Confetti_Tour_in_Leeds_(cropped)_2.jpg "Little Mix")
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