Lyrics:
less where niggas cop up
So I had no choice but to grind and get this guap up
Ever since a boy just my moms and my poppa
The streets been the old head
bragging rights
Drop my phone in water, moma put it in bag of rice
Now my phone ain't working, I got things to do tonight
I'm the reason why she's stressing
all the proceedings
Are brought to you by the church house where we'll be eatin'
Chestnuts roastin' on an open fire
Singin' my jingle, where is Kris
Frank White
We got the real live shit from front to back
To my people in the world, where the fuck you at?
Where my niggaz is at?
Where my niggaz is at?
bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Sucka, I hit em' up
Yeah, straight out on the Bad Boy camp
You know how we do it
All my real homeboys in
New York
Baby be asking where the bag at
Where the mac at
Where the strap at
Like are you really gonna use that
She ain't break my heart but she really gonna
bitches, they call me Larry/by the way I get back to the hustle, this shit is scary/runnin circles round the game, I’m engaged to be married shit/I’m just
down south where everything is greater
Ain’t nobody do it better shout-out to Decatur
To my niggas on the south side, hanging out at Greenbriar
Selling
Mutha fucka
It ain't in your budget
Yall is bluffin
But im buzzin
Keep it raw and rugged
In my dungeon
Twistin blunts
N bitches gettin punished
Thump her
me
Smoke all in this wood we smoke gas by the tree
Yo boy in this wood or the red swisher sweets
Heat is outside if you think this shit sweet
If i need
my mans
Won't your girls meet my boys, we can all be friends
Hey, over there, over there
Ho, get over here, get over here
Got to get it popping,
I could get you over here, girl
Tonight, so I
Could get my grown man on with you
You don't know about it, I'm on my grown man
You don't know about
I could get you over here, girl
Tonight, so I
Could get my grown man on with you
You don't know about it, I'm on my grown man
You don't know about
da bomb
I know you hear me comin here I come
And I'm called the Miggida-Miggida-Mac
Can I drop the bomb drop the bomb
Can I drop the bomb drop
pulling out a new toy
Erry winter, I'm pulling out a new toy
I love the noochies
But my old school is better
My paint dripping wet
My inside dripping
on the inside, where is mine? (Jesus)
Love and hate is a thin line, get two for the ten time (Lord)
Dyin' on the eleventh, my N-
I'm just down here stuntin'
forget 'em
I ain't need 'em, but my mom's is with 'em (Jesus)
Thirty-eight, look how the streets did 'em (Lord)
All these trophies, but where do I sit
Now my guns go bang, bang for all my bredrins
The ends is snake infested
Most man value money more than a friendship
If you judge a man by a car that
Bay
Yeah it's philthy nigguh
All we know is crime
All my family doing time
My shooter follow though with every murder, that's a sign
If homie
a legend
They doubting progression
Improving each session
I'm out of my mental
I'm Zooted in public
Where shades In the house now
Was tricked by
show ya boy rollin'
I'm cold wit' da' flow no boast but y'all boring
Holding my coast by myself never folding
Throwing the SQAD 7 up lettin' em know
to get chose tonight
Ridin' my leather and wood, hey
Hit the door I feel dynamite
And all the fly girls lookin' so good, choosin'
You choosin' that [Go
ain't no place like home
And Crestside Valley-Jo is where I call my own
Stayin Sesed Out, one love for all my kinfolks
From the top of G Block
It's murda, ain't no where to run
Niggaz it's murda, I-N-see is gon ride tonight
It's murda, ain't nowhere to run
Niggaz it's murda, ain't nowhere
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