Lyrics:
Alright Gyal, say she want me, she want me, she want me She call S.P. come start the party and She want me, she want me, she want me Fi run come deal
ag' or should I let my hair grow? I know it don't stop, even though they try 45 years, in this like a homicide [CHORUS: SPM] Creep wit' me, S.P. so
La lleve a S.P.S pa' que vea cómo es Una perra mala que le gusta mover Cuando entra al party ella pide Moët Sabe lo que tengo y lo quiere tener
to my be -boy Beans And my S.P. chain gang, doin the damn thing I Gotta Have It! Don't forget my boogie with beam That keep me in good health and kill
os parça é só copão pro' alto. Embrasa Amo essa vida, só risada e baguncinha Foi em S.P. que eu descobri que amo latina (pra caralho) Mas usando piso
four stressed So I can whip back on the whole sixteenth I gotta have it, shot out to my be-boy Beans And my S.P. chain gang, doing the damn thing I
bubblin' yo (bubblin', yo) Set we mind at ease, we got to take it slow So when you see the S.P. floatin', don't provoke him 'Cah the girls we be pokin',
they S.P.S 'cause they gon' shoot 'bout Street I ain't got no boss, I put myself anywhere I wanna be Stop fronting bags 'cause these niggas think
we nuh gon coke it, yo (Coke it, yo) Set we mind at ease, we gotta take it slow So when yuh see di S.P. floatin', don't provoke him 'Cah di weed
bubblin' yo (bubblin', yo) Set we mind at ease, we got to take it slow So when you see the S.P. floatin', don't provoke him 'Cah the girls we be pokin',
life, leg or arm missin' I can step it up, have you doubt or your mom missin' S.P. the Ghost and I'm trom' hittin' Arm kickin anytime I'm spittin'
Lot of people mad I ain't dead yet S.P. comin' through your speakers and headsets Streets is in the buildin' whenever the Ghost in it I remember
[Intro: Swizz Beatz] Swizzie! (Ghost!) Yeah, smoke, now S.P. c'mon, S.P. c'mon Ghost - it's showtime, it's showtime! Ghost - lighters in
go on a murder spree Paintin' niggaz burgundy, put 'em to surgery Go kill they family like the shit was a urgency S.P. is back, call the state
miss with arrows Got a old, old soul, I miss the pharaohs I am too deep for you, street for you Wanna fuck with S.P. I'll bring the heat to you Five
parlo senza filtri parole nude Sono un Anxious Boy Cazzo vuoi Avvoltoi Cresciuto con pochi eroi Con la fam non coi tuoi Genova S.P. La sera sembra Detroit
up Boy, get the fuck on, this ain't another club zone, you just forgot Ray Calmer, S.P. way too hot to touch on I crush domes and bust on, come on me
sich Schicksal und Pech P.S., S.P. - beide richtig korrekt Guck, ich mache oberkörperfrei Kniebeugen aufm dritten Bein Im Arsch deiner Mutter drin,
rattles Like a train on that old S.P. I've got the T.B. blues I've got that old T.B. I can't eat a bite Got that old T.B. I can't eat a bite Got
a check There's a secret society, all we ask is trust No G money shit all we gots is us True indeed, yes, more better, yes More cheddar, S.P. chain,
gots is us True indeed, yes, more better, yes More cheddar, S.P. chain, jeans and sweaters Movies, cartoons, labels, etcetera Fill in the blanks
or tails win or lose broke niggas are players Say what up to the S.P. crooked I.C.E. Ra rolling with the strap on the side of me Partna' don't get it
or tails win or lose broke niggas are players Say what up to the S.P. crooked I.C.E. Ra rolling with the strap on the side of me Partna' don't get it
oh, oh, oh (yo, yo, di S.P. and we deh yah pon di go yo) Ooh, ooh, ooh (Sean Paul, Keyshia Cole and Don Corleon, a next chapter) Oh, oh, oh (yah mon,
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