Lyrics:
it
I'm with the clique and we
Thick like fat bitches
I got the work in the pot
I got the work in the pot
Do it so much my bitch call me Sir Mix-A-lot
bitch
NG the dream team believe me
NG the money ah chase we
Kurrr
I just want the green like the Mother Earth you copy sir? (Yeahh)
I be making stupid
wanna free my nigga Nun but I know he be back
Bitches that I hit up in the DM never hit me back
Now they probably all up in my DM I don't get to check
Minute Maid it be my drink
I drop a perc and mix it up now my shit pink
I'm living life don't give a fuck bout what they think
And if I move my niggas move
to spit a lot of game
But back then, I was just saying my name
I had a record player, on my stereo
Got down on my knees with my radio
From Oakland
feel
When It's cold
I can't feel anymore
If I drink
Then I roll up
Heat up by my own
Them fake bitches
Young FigaDro
Don't mix with anyone
Check down
Got
Wanna go home and see my wife and kids
I wanna go home and see my wife and kids
I wanna go home
Wanna go home and see my wife and kids
I wanna go
the mac
That's why smoke komn from the barrel of the strap
Im always at the bank
I gotta Check my statts
I'm balling
Gotta cash them checks
I been doing
aim
These sucka wannabe's
Nigga please - you're green
I'll bend hoes on the downlow - banks obscene
want to chill with these niggas, bet you wish
gettin' bank
Gettin' head, gettin' hella dank
I drop my top when it's hot and sunny
So how you talk shit when you ain't havin no money
I set trends in
talk to the bank
It ain't a debate!
Papi got hits in the vault
It's stuffin' the safe!
I got some money to blowww ain't alot money I save
You do the shit
Slide to the bank money fiend top of the ranks
Cash counting checks bounce that ass just for a spank
Withdrew my funds right up out that fucking safe
Shooters
Killers
Mobsters
Gangsters
Shooters
We coming with
A lot of it
We coming with
A lot of it
Too many girls have been trying on my life
But I'm out
Shooters
Killers
Mobsters
Gangsters
Shooters
We coming with
A lot of it
We coming with
A lot of it
Too many girls have been trying on my life
But I'm out
inside me
No reflection in the mirror I was tryna find me
Satan at my front door he was tryna sign me
Made a lot of mistakes and some bad decisions
Thank
in the cube, we mix a lot
Ain't no opps in the way, so we roll off
Make a hundred K and we take off
Ugly-ass bitch, keep the mask on
I ain't even say
I used to have a lot of bitches
Straight down for me
Doin' anything I said, even hoe on the street
But I'm a dog and I dog my broads
Guerrilla
to take us back (Yep)
So you got your and I got mine, so why do you whine about my grind ?
Sitting around blaming Mix-a-Lot for your situation
Boy get
Nigga don't gas me, I don't need a fill up
Pick her up and make her suck my dick 'til she hiccup
Wop lookin' slim like a bicycle rim
But his bank
me do the old man dance boy
I smoke plenty grass boy
I'm touching on the ass boy
Go ahead and Sir Mix-A-Lot put it on the glass boy
I'm from
of shit
Another Cheque
This mix is Stoned
Wake up with molly in the room
I gat my bitch In the room
I got the smoke in my left hand
I got the spark in
girl)
Hey DJ (on the request line girl)
Play a record by my favorite band
I like to hear my favorite song on the radio
So I called and requested
got birds but this ain't hollister
Red bottoms virgins this ain't polish sir
Know we got bands don't count my pockets bruh
Now they treat me like I
of breakin' off back (oh my damn)
I know that p**** flowin' so ima need life Jack (I ain’t pullin out)
Anaconda goin' dumb lookin at those buns
I, sir mix a lot
Discuss these i checks my bank by sir mix a lot Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In