Lyrics:
turbans, kufi's
Hand guns is petite the shotties is doofy
Talkin in is not nice, lot of niggaz got life
Everything is good in my bank except cop dice
Pillies in my pocket guess I'm jumpin off
I talk to myself at night
Can't move no help in sight
A lot of good times one bad day
I wish you would stay but
gone off my energy
So much soul Ima live again, ay girl go in the crib with 10
Play games I'll kick your ass out, put that on my timberlands
With your hands out looking up to me
Like you want something free
When my last CD was out, you wasn't bumping me
But now that I got this little
your hands out looking up to me
Like you want something free
When my last CD was out, you wasn't bumping me
But now that I got this little company
your hands out looking up to me
Like you want something free
When my last CD was out, you wasn't bumping me
But now that I got this little company
crying in my arms girl why you looking at me sideways
Sometimes I try to cut you off but yet you still by me
Sometimes you try to cut me off but yet you
You're a big girl now, stand up
Don't call for me, get rang up
How do you mean that ain't all fibs?
Swear on your life now, hand up
Tell the truth, beg
Tool
I'm real nigga, you so full
World tours, and you local
All you say this shit on the menu
Give me large fries and I’ll be cool
Put your hands down by
tryna do some good
But if you like your memories my sanity is shook
With the shit that I keep seeing I should pack and hit the book like
Hit
girl/
I can go all night, I'm not your ex girl/
Do it good and I might let you be my next girl/
Work me over like you tryna earn a check girl/
I can teach
the language girl I bet I'll call you Shawty
Just understand me my words ma I'm good I ain't naughty
We went out for a hunt
You know I had to stunt
She told me
moments, and I live for a livin'
But this for the girls that barely let me get to first base
On some ground ball shit
Cause now I run my city on some town
keep the cooler kit
I don't need nobody in this bitch confusing shit
Playing my song on the radio
I been making these hit you need to play your role
Mr.
Paul and Sasha, come sing fi dem, baby
Though you make me holler, though you make me sweat
I can't get your tenderness
Still I can't get you off my
gon' get a fly girl, gonna get some spankin'
Drive off in a def OJ
Everybody go, "Hotel, motel, Holiday Inn"
You say if your girl starts actin' up,
The girl by my side
Lost one too many good friends
Can't even keep track of 'em
Swept out like dust in the wind
Looks like you're the last of 'em
Even when
The hands of a surgeon how I seem to keep composure
I know my practice, guinea pig, this is no act, it's passion
The disease and the remedy in punk rock
girls trip, Latifah
Uh, man this is Westside goals
They appreciate you too late, that's just how shit goes
Now get your hands up high, make sure you keep
girls trip, Latifah
Uh, man this is Westside goals
They appreciate you too late, that's just how shit goes
Now get your hands up high, make sure you keep
taking all of your crops
From your children to your corncobs
Okay, my attempt's to break the ice
I take a slice at pacifism
Classically conditioned to be
without my faith
I swear by the passage of time
Mankind is in a loss state
Except for the ones that believe in God
You know the ones who keep the faith
mm-hmm, mm-hmm, mm-hmm
We're both sides of a smile
Yeah
You keep the bread all to yourself and you get mold from it
You give a good girl a rose
his and hers that's how we like to show them
Treating her so good look my nigga she just glowing
Fucking with your old nigga is gonna keep you broken
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