Lyrics:
U.S.S.R.
P.L.O. style got thrown out the car
and ran over, by the Method Man jeep
Divine can't define my style is so deep
like pussy, my low cut fade stay
ain't heard before
Then me P Money and Dirty came and turned it into a nuclear war
After the show jump on the tour bus,
A little bit of brandy, a little
I need, not what I want
I need a P
I bought some beats
I need a hunni, bought a honey bun
Don't call him booty, I got the ass
I'm gonna fart really
hang time
We shoot long distance columbine
Assisting on one of my mines
Had crushed dreams crushed P's in the room oh what a time
We building an empire
dip in the pool
Swimming, with Dominican women
My manifesto
Freestyle, butterfly, and of course breaststroke
Hit me if he isn't sexing right (WHAT
give up)
Don't go
(Y'know the deal)
Rapper Noyd, rapper P, Nas, Havoc
To the exit, niggas we out!
What up!
(The Infamous)
It's over baby
my freestyle thing
Married to the rap, I'm going to need a ring
Let that choppa sing, R.I.P. Juice
demo and everybody was dishin, you know what I'm sayin?
Yo P tell em whassup man
We was coolin in my car one day you see
Clockin a double nickel
of a man that hustle up by any means
Cause what i feel i know is real no sympathy (Sup)
I'm just as dirty as crooked as the name be
Crooked letter p a i n
on juice
Still ain't gonna let shit slide
I'm taking it up straight
Grabbing and cuffing a beat
You think i was talking a bitch
Well i'm way too big
For
thoughts consumed
By the pa**ion, slow jam tunes and body action
My finger's on the clit splashin', your p**** lips
Got you spazzin', love juices
give up)
Don't go
(Y'know the deal)
Rapper Noyd, rapper P, Nas, Havoc
To the exit, niggas we out!
What up!
(The Infamous)
It's over baby
to close (haha), more bills to fold (uh)
Get you bread, homie, and stack that shit by the loads
Niggas don't want you to keep your head up
Fuck what
with him
I'm sliding through
Hop in the coupe
Baby you're rude
I know I am too
You tried my stick
You drink my juice
I drop you off
Grab onto my tool
I
wasn't born with no one hand-in-hand
You'd think they was on Acid way they asked for a second Chance
I don't care bout the awards that's what I mean by
You can have the bitch nigga, I ain't sentimental
Smoke weed and freestyle, no instrumental
Been out, lived through the wicked streets of P
You can have the bitch nigga, I ain't sentimental
Smoke weed and freestyle, no instrumental
Been out, lived through the wicked streets of P
still talking that shit is absurd
My repertoire, is U.S.S.R
P.L.O. style got thrown out the car
And ran over, by the Method Man jeep
Divine can't
in your)
(Wake you up and as I stare in your)
(I wake you up and as I stare in your face, you seem stunned)
Remember P, the one you got your whole
Funkee P)
Ah To da face it's QF da funkee P
Yes my name you know what I'm saying
(Mac Maestro)
Ah check it
(Zebulon & QF Da Funkee P)
Yeah yeah
(Mac
a beeper goin' off like a high school bell
Looked in the mirror, what did we see?
Fucking blue lights: L.A.P.D
Pigs searched our car, their day was made
Chill
This Trap On My Heart Be My Wife Until I go Die By My Side This Trap Be The Love Of My Life I'm Finna Go Far With The Fight
He Come On My Doorstep
shooting for Georgia Tech, like my name was Eddie Elisma
Doing this thing these boys can't mess with me, these boys can't test me
What's left to see, is
fate
Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name
But what's troubling you is the nature of my game
I started in St. Petersburg when I thought it was
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