Lyrics:
But guess what, so here's my money
All I want you to do for me
Is give me some here when you get home
Yeah, baby when you get home
R E S P E C
holdin' hands
My uncle died of cancer, is he cured yet
It's a war out here, lil' whoadie took his last breath
[Chorus with ad-libs]
[Master P
[Chorus 4X: Master P]
Who said he want some
Boy you don't want none
We wile out in the club and that dumb diddy dumb dumb
[Master P]
I like them
Master P [Talking]
Yo what you trippin' on?
Didn't I tell you its gonn be alright?
I ain't came up on somethin' shorty
And I got you
a pimp
I'm a country motherfucker
And I walk with a limp
[Master P]
My momma jacked niggaz so I don't trust no chick
Put the gas up in the tank before I
[Master P (Souya)]
Yeah shorty, we could be like Bonnie & Clyde, ya heard
Go out there and get this paper
You wit it? (yeah I'm wit it)
Then
Hail mary from the graves, the Lord is with thee
Bless these thugs (Uuuugh) as we ride (As we ride)
Good side, bad side
[Master P]
Til death do us
Vieram dizer-me há pouco que andavas louco
Por certa dama muito nobre, muito bela
Ias com ela ali p'ra Alfama
Não adivinho quem seja nem tenho
Yeah
We done seen it all
And done it all
We don't trust these niggas
Word, word to my nigga, P
Blow these bitches back out, rockin' these
I roll
I never gave a damn, my juice gonna slam
I'm at I.H.O.P. eaten some breakfast and some yams
My partner Scott chilling at the motherfucking crib
I roll
I never gave a damn, my juice gonna slam
I'm at I.H.O.P. eaten some breakfast and some yams
My partner Scott chilling at the motherfucking crib
stripe killaz out the gates of Boston
Run up on this, run wit caution
Out of town Roxbury niggas blust shots
South Van High Park stay hot
J.P
no luggage tight trippin'
M.O.P. first fam, slip the clippin' right
Heat up your chest and mind show your people flesh and blood
When I join
[Product G&B]
Oh yeah.. (G&B)
Ohhhh.. oooh yeah (M.O.P.)
Oh-ohhhh, ooooh (yeah)
Oh-ohhhh (Primo bring it back, uh-huh, yo)
Oooooh-ohhh,
shayatine (diables) sur les côtes
Avec un p'tit arrière gout d'sucre sur le dos
T'as les poches pleines tu crois p'tet que ton cake sent le Givenchy
Bush, the army, and the G.I
Nigga this P.I., until I D.I
Now if you don't think I know what the fuck I'm talkin bout
(What you talkin bout?)
Run
Umm hmm p yamz
J what? This is what happens
'Sup Jeff you leaving niggas in
The studio by theyselves yo
Ay yo puff the dutch
Don't make me fuck shit
dead" (R.I.P.)
She say she pullin' up, I'm like, "Bring an extinguisher"
She like, "Why?" 'Cause I need some fire-ass head
I don't like no bougie
to Master P, but ain't no limit to this shit)
(Bulletproof and tinted in this bitch)
(Crib got eleven rooms, ain't no tenants in this bitch)
(We go back
the flesh
If shit ain't right between us
We will leave a nigga left
Real nigga in the flesh
I'm p-o-p you d-u-d
You bark up this tree, I'll make you
a Mason or say that I'm working with Satan
But even a blind man could see
I would never sell my soul for the P
When you're looking at Skepta, you're looking
a Mason or say that I'm working with Satan
But even a blind man could see
I would never sell my soul for the P
When you're looking at Skepta, you're looking
Say mayne, I had this pussy ass nigga come up to me the other day
You know what I'm sayin'?
Talkin' 'bout "say Bun B
Bun B you gon' rep for P
the world reppinâ?? 914
Styles P and Sheek Louch they wild for sure
Been all over the world reppinâ?? 914
Raised in the ghetto singing songs for
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