Lyrics:
pussy nigga
Who you talkin bout?
Fuck nigga, we can have a paper work party
But she ain’t got no patience
Shawty do that work for me
Every day I’m all
this grill
If I'm hungry you losing your meal
No you can't stay at the crib lil' bitch
You better go 'head get a uber for real
And you been talkin real
To the rhythm of the boogie, the beat
Now, what you hear is not a test I'm rappin' to the beat
And me, the groove, and my friends are gonna try to move your
honey, can't you see, yeah
It's the lover, in me
Who wants to make love
To the lover in you
The lover in you
To the lover in you
Don't be misled,
go getta for sure, let’s get this paper
Tell me what is all the talkin’ for? what’s the talkin’ for?
'Cause I connect anywhere that I go, you see me
been no cash made in it
So who thought you could get paid with it?
Just crash the club with my crew and then I'm outta there
Hit some skins, act
Ah shit. Man, them pinche black gangstas are at it again
I wonder who they fucked up today?
You motherfucker!
(Got him)
Pull over to the side
don't apologize
You were here first on this earth
Before these millennial cowboys
Claimed their turf
Now who's a thousand miles and
Ran deserted in
You know I’ve been making music for a minute now
And I swear I love it more every day
And it can definitely get frustrating sometimes, but
You gotta
to
Who is this nigga you heard about?
Someone just talkin' that bullshit
Man, someone just gave you the run-around
Niggas downplayin' the money
But
the noise you talk are lies
Pretty damn soon they'll be by (I'm outta here)
They listen to me and i give'em the real
And every night caps get peeled
who you are, it's who you are, it's who you are
And I'm loved by you
It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am
Oh, I've heard a thousand stories
for this
I swear I get it off the love
Louisiana nigga you can tell
By my mothafuckin' grammar
I swear I got 3 hoes with
Me just like I'm Santa
These
and a-talkin' with the Lord?
Will He take you by the hand and lead you to that promised land
Are you walkin' and a-talkin' with the Lord?
[Chorus]
Kennedy
Long Island my Long Island
Taxes are a freaking joke
Long Island my Long Island
Oysters that will make you choke
Long Island my Long Island
And know you shouldn't try
Why you treat your girls
And eat your girls like they are pie
Why you keep on talkin
And your runnin off your beak
Now you
hear you talkin that talk (that talk), i heard you was talkin bout me (bout me)
soon as i ask who you talkin to, you replyin with naw its not me (not me)
You're talkin' to me
But I don't really mind what you're sayin'
My back will be turned to
The words that you speak
Until you find a way to properly convey
(J. Ferguson/Sloan)
Well you've got your bags together
And you're off into the new world
The mother is impatient
With four sons
She wanted four
who you are
In this bar it only matters who I is
Stop ta-ta-talkin' that
Blah, blah, blah
Think you'll be gettin' this?
Nah, nah, nah
Not in
To the rhythm of the boogie, the beat
Now, what you hear is not a test I'm rappin' to the beat
And me, the groove, and my friends are gonna try to move your
looked uncomfortable
For talkin' 'bout Dwyane Wade's son, he was pressin' you
He was askin' you if you was gay, he was disrespectin' you
Never seen
to who?
By the way homie what's gangsta to you?
(Money, dope and alcohol and plenty bitches all up on your dick)
I got that
How can C-Bo be wrong?
How can
Who the boss? I'm'a break him off
Where you from? Who the boss? Lemme break him off
I hear him talkin', but he 'bout to get that ass stomp
Watch, I
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