Search results for gotta be a g regular mix by trae

We've found 228 lyrics, 27 artists, and 100 albums matching gotta be a g regular mix by trae:



a lot of wanksta's got, got in the(ghetto)
got shot in the(ghetto)-but not popped in they metal
I use to hang out with the ol' G's and peep game
they use
on the regular, checkin my ends
Bought another fresh drop top (top) Benz
Yep yep yep, +Just Da Pimpin in Me+
Twenty G's on the block when I hit L.B.
Stashed a lil'
think so 
My heat under my seat, and I don't love you hoes 
Living it like a G, but still I gotta lay low 
Five percent or ten, but still my screens
??? 
Gotta get so mo drank candy
It ain't no if's, and's 
Probably a maybe
Sho we gone be leanin on a regular daily basis
Maan I wreck faces
the kitchen
Me, Dougie D, Trae, K all on a mission
On a mission, all in the back of the Expedition
Me and my G's, we all be hitting
Coming through your
Faithfully as G-O-D watchin over we
Created we so I satnd in my God Body
Hardly moved by those crews that try to charge me falsely
It won't be the first time
be phonies, but real G's show me
That's what, you told me
That's why, I be homies [x2]


TRAE LYRICS

Copyright © 2006 UrbanLyrics.com
think so 
My heat under my seat, and I don't love you hoes 
Living it like a G, but still I gotta lay low 
Five percent or ten, but still my screens
think so 
My heat under my seat, and I don't love you hoes 
Living it like a G, but still I gotta lay low 
Five percent or ten, but still my screens
think so 
My heat under my seat, and I don't love you hoes 
Living it like a G, but still I gotta lay low 
Five percent or ten, but still my screens
the cheese I sent
From the corners and the clerks, for blocks and blocks
I used to cut up rocks, now I pop them tops
I gotta watch the cops, I got hoes by
black sister
Gotta make her richer
So tell me what's real, partner

[Break - Sir Mix-A-Lot]
(Da-da-da-down for mine)
(You gon' buy me a motherfuckin car?)
Now they peepin' how a nigga climb on the chart
Ain't fear in my heart, I represent it from the start
Deep, my momma raised me as a g from birth
Be
wrong, G-O for what you N-O
But be warn, never will I leave like a regular
Cause I'm a little better then the regular competitor
I use to see 'em
coming, it's my album
And for the record, meaning my record, check it
Listen to the single and you'll be like, yo, I gotta get it
But in the meantime,
the basket with plastic 
I smoke blunts on the regular fuck peelin' caps 
Tryin' to make a million dollars out a quarter ounce 
Gettin' chased by the five O
real G's show me
That's what, you told me
That's why, I be homies - 2x

[Trae]
Kin folk I just got your letter, you and me we SK forever
You been
then we mix it
All together makin' all
Kinds of crap so that
Tomorrow'n'today
Hey it's ok don't be frighttened
By the change but don't dare
Get in our
[Chorus]
5-1-0 and 2-1-3 is you a baller or a G?

Ha ha ha. 
To thug or not to thug? 
To G or not to G? 
See that's the question. 
Every time
got my mind made I gotta be that rich motherfucker
Set it up so my grandkids don't suffer 
The phat hummer 
The phat drummer - what's your choice?
pack heat
Got turned out early by them scandalous freaks
Addicted to crime so I stay in the mix
With a love for hoochie chicks and pulling jewelry
Ah yeah! feel the funk bay-be!
That’s right, this is called the basement!
And my man cl smooth kick it for you like this

From the heights, not
smoke blunts on the regular fuck when it counts
Tryin to make a million dollars out a quarter ounce
Gettin ghost on the five-oh, fuck them hoes
Got
[B.G.](BulletProof)

V.L
(Team up)
V
V.L
(Team up, team up)
V.L
(Team up)
V.L
(Team up)
V.L

Verse 1: BulletProof

I'm full of that raw
???? a cop
a carnival

But y'all won't let me be or see
'cause I'm so D F that I'm considered a G
I be H I off J's, K's and L's
Um, M, N, to the O's, they can't tell