Lyrics:
Blame me cause I'm one of fo' grips
Now you can have mayo and a gang of triggers
Bit that ain't shit, cause they still gon blame a nigga
"Always
pay the bills
Yeah I feel that
I know you well connected dog
Let me holla at somebody real
Aight look, I got the perfect person for you, hold
don't pay the bills
Yeah I feel that
I know you well connected dog
Let me holla at somebody real
Aight look, I got the perfect person for you, hold
stash it, stack it
Get in, get out, that's a O.G.'s classic
900-Hustler, you pass it around
Wanna speak to me direct, hit extension trey-pound, I'm out
touch 900 thou
I know I ain't perfect
But you make feel like I'm that guy
When I'm on my lowest always take me high
Beautiful all around don't even got
Don't you text me I am not your friend
Got n****s connected to my bloodline
900 4 Life Shoutout to Ewiva!
That's my brother he up in the east side
You no good for me but I can't stay away
You got a hold me but I don't feel the strain
Now it's 9:00 am been up since yesterday
All I got is old
the word and I will do it
Call me
I can be anything that you need me to be
Just request it
Boy, I'm your hotline
Your personal 1-900 number
Anything
looking for me South Memphis I'm stomping
It's starting to feel like I'm 900 degreez
I work my way up to a couple of keys
Make so much money
I can't get
your feelings too much emotion
I hit the gas now i'm just coasting
Moving these bags like a I want a promotion
Brabus 900 the sound got her open
You call
'm tripping with this music
You the one that's trying
To help me see my skills tight
Help me see my future bright
But that shit bout to change tonight
(But that
(Percaholics)
(Hey glumboy)
(Maru)
Yea
Yea
Yea
Yea (YNB ay)
Yea
Yea
I know you can't forget about me
I can feel when you think about me
I'm doin' my
... yes. Yes, yes, a bit, a bit.
VILLAGER #1: She has got a wart.
BEDEMIR: What makes you think she is a witch?
VILLAGER #3: Well, she turned me
stay in yo place
I might get the hanger then make you lay on yo face
Trick guerilla for my scrilla ho you got to know
Chronic weed smoke the only
chorus-
Im so krispy
Im so krispy
My jean 900 shoes 850
Im so krispy
Im so krispy
My ice game make u hatas wanna get me
Im so krispy
Im so krispy
i shine so
the nights you despise
No brights, no hype
And you have a gift
But they don't gift a prize
9:00)
I've been thinking myself
Like whatchu doing
I'm slacking
a hold of my Visa
And dialed the number flashin' on my screen
1-900-SHEILA
You can tell it all to me
I'm your phone fantasy
1-900-SHEILA
Oh man!
York
Made a flip for 900, my plug Tony Hawk
Every day a flawless victory, my team perfect
Give us any beat, we gon' murk it
I got family in New Jersey,
stay in yo place
I might get the hanger then make you lay on yo face
Trick guerilla for my scrilla ho you got to know
Chronic weed smoke the only
Searching high
Call 1-900-909-UFOS (So call me maybe)
This may be the most shocking
Phone call you'll ever make
Eight, six, seven, five, three (oh) nine
I
the phone
And said Send me a songwriter
Who's drifted far from home
And make sure that he's hungry
And make sure he's alone
And send me a cheeseburger
clost cock the toast and make you see Ghost-s like Whoopi
Have you ever seen a nigga get snatched up by his drawers
And wonder the cause, 'cause big
began
Woman was always teaching man
And I you listen to my bid attentively
I goin' tell you how she smarter than me
Samson was the strongest man
Alright motherfucka come on!
Get yo' motherfuckin' hands off
Me motherfuckin' police officer
Hey, fuck you!
I ain't bullshiting!
Man fuck that
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