Lyrics:
the cack jack, 4s up
Six owe seven four project,
Ya'll need to
Listen to some gangsta shit
We gonna keep it pimpin',
No simpin' around this Motherfucker,
You
(we do)
For all my niggas still around me, keep it real around me (keep it real around me)
Uh, arrogant niggas forced to be humble (forced)
Don't get
still
And when I shoot my shot, I'm gonna shoot to kill
'Cause I'm the Spoonie-Spoon, I don't mess around
I drop a man where he stand right into
Don't turn around
Don't turn around
What's the word around
We can't take it back
No no no
Don't turn around
Don't turn around
What's the word around
around.
Big Noise flew in from Winnetka,
stole each fellow's heart and then
Big Noise flew in from Winnetka,
Big Noise flew right out again.
Stop! Look!
we gon' shine
The money tree don't get to shade us!
WHOA
Take offence motherfucker I ain't taking it back
You pat on the back, then you're back
know I'm bout to project
I'm at the top of the mountain
At the top of the mountain
At the top of the mountain
I just overcame stress
I'm at the top
Patrick
Beat slaps
Pats back
Grab someone to dance with
Turn the volume up
Up
In the club vibing
Music makes me feel the highest
The brightest
Listen
around your situation
Don't look at your condition
Don't look at your condition
Don't look at your condition
He can turn around, he can turn around
He
romantic
Ten and twenty, you come by the droves
Don't be scared to take off your clothes
If you're really short, get on your tippy toes
And remember,
the world revolves around money
That's right, money
Don't be deceived by trashy lies
The grand illusion of flashing lights
Open your third eye, expand your
SZN!
The only thing I care about is SZA
If a nigga wanna fuck with me, turn to GTA
I can't trip about no bitch, I don't even know
You know I'm on this
to maintain your course
Through the potholes and gravel
Hot holes and what have you, tryin' to clock dough
Foes tryin' to pop shots through you by code
Pigs
the projects
We gon' make it out but this shit is a slow process
Lean right, keep heat tight, don't ever digest
Hollow tips where your mind rest, you forgot
the projects
We gon' make it out but this shit is a slow process
Lean right, keep heat tight, don't ever digest
Hollow tips where your mind rest, you forgot
[Jay-Z] Turn the motherfucking music up
[Cam'Ron] Just Blaze, man. You owe me nigga
[Jay-Z] Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Welcome to the Empire State.
[Fat Pat]
Welcome to the land, where it just don't stop
Trunks pop tops drop, and the front end hop
Paint flop screens on, acting bad in the song
like you don't notice it
I don't blame you, Cheech & Chong I'd be smoking shit
Rap tight cobra grip, game's over with
Pat Stay is definitely one of,
a nigga black and blue
Like a pair of Pennys
While me and Betha, throw fiesta, by alma queta
Chicqueta, monero, nieta
Don't ever fuck around with
it
It’s time to make it and turn a blind eye to hatred
Turn up your thermostat the burners back
To earn a stack and learn the fact that earners lack
find my way back home
The old me is dead and gone, dead and gone
Oh oh
I turn my head to the East
I don't see nobody by my side
I turn my head
around
Your parents ain't around, and plus your room is packed
I'ma hit it from the front, I'ma hit it from the back, bust it like a gat, pat pat
Kissin'
ounce
Head into your momma room so I can hear that naughty sound, don't play around
Your parents ain't around, and plus your room is packed
I'ma hit it
with such fervency
You stay getting your cash off what's current, see
Personally, I don't play around with perjury
So while the shiny rap in hyperbole,
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