Lyrics:
evidence for
If these things are what you mean by God
Then I believe in God but I
Don't believe in a personal
God to whom I look for comfort or for a
Natural
yeah)
Three pound in my waist, shank in my sock
You either get cut, get stuffed or get shot
This is the tale of Captain Jack Sparrow
Pirate so brave
fashion
Yeah I'm a hot boy, like equator
She ain't want me now she begging me to save her
I'm in love with money yeah I'm really getting paper
Rest in peace
sayin'? (Powerful, word up, word up)
So you let me shit got at the count of three though
You know what I'm sayin'? (Take your time, take your time)
(Michelin only goes to 3 stars)
Money making bitch girl I love you (You top tier bitch)
Bitches with the hoes girl I love you
Thot ass bitch I can't cuff you
of money
Kiss-a-licious brown-eyed boy
He's just so kiss-a-licious
And now my every wish is (oohh)
To kiss him up from head to toe
Wrap him up to go
three and a half dollars or probably fo' if a bitch ridin)
(Yeah main, them hoes talented
They be fuckin with mo' MC's at Jack the Rapper)
(Aight fuck
a cold world, better pack a heat for the road
0.44 flying out of piece, going war
Cause he never had jack', now he meals by the colt
One, two, three into
I fell in love with a brown eye
She all thick like LALA
Ass LALA
Skin brown sugar like Sanaa
Ask do I got money
Do I
Formula one like Dubai
Abu track
really is." [Jack Scagnetti:] "Don't get me started, okay, warden? Don't get me started." [Dwight McClusky:] "Dwight, you call me Dwight."
[Jack
Little boys and girls, they all love me
Come sit on the lap of I-see-E
And let me tell ya a story or two
About a punk-ass nigga I knew
Named
Little boys and girls, they all love me
Come sit on the lap of I-see-E
And let me tell ya a story or two
About a punk-ass nigga I knew
Named
Little boys and girls, they all love me
Come sit on the lap of I-see-E
And let me tell ya a story or two
About a punk-ass nigga I knew
Named Jack, he
getting money
Smoking L's by the hundreds
We got blow, we got molly
We got blood on the money, dedicated to the money
Killing niggas for the money
phone right now that you hardly text
That's lookin' for love
But everybody wants what they can't touch, so
If you, touch my money you can see what
pinned you on the floor
One two three nigga
[Kurupt]
I'm gettin' dusted,
In the back of a six hundred
Like, fuck it, life's a bitch and I love it
ain't exact
For the past four or five she was banned by the pack
Hip to the witness, putting on a plan
No money, no more Puddy Tat for the man
Jack
Hohooho
Fokoo bout you
M3b3 me shy but guy I loose vim
Hohooho
Fokoo bout you
Before you love den take your loving
Hohooho
Fokoo bout you
Like den be God
Sold my soul to Big-Jack for the love of a black Cadillac
And it rolled for a day now it's stopped and he won't take it back
So I called the police
the pain
If these hoes down to jack, I want you to know
We comin down bald fades, not afros
[Verse 3: Key-C]
Now we chilling, now we just leaning
And we
the pain
If these hoes down to jack, I want you to know
We comin down bald fades, not afros
[Verse 3: Key-C]
Now we chilling, now we just leaning
And we
a hustler by nature, fiend for paper, schemes and capers
Constantly eyed by neighbors who do the Feds favors
It ain't no major though, whether slangin' yay
ain't exact
For the past four or five she was banned by the pack
Hip to the witness, putting on a plan
No money, no more Puddy Tat for the man
Jack
[Chorus]
Sex, and drugs, and dirty money
On the race to rule the world, you
Cut your teeth on fame and diamonds
Your time is up now
Three, Two,
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