Lyrics:
I can see you scared my vision twenty twenty
Keep ya two cents i'll keep it a hunned
They say that money talks therefore I aint sayin nothin
All
uncomfortable jus by standing around
That shit crazy, love my town
That shit crazy, love my sound
That shit crazy, love my rights
That shit crazy, know it all
it poppin'
Hit me
Front that shit this the south side, got a fat dick on your mouth wide
I've come to take outside, nah do it right here
Hop out
get this shit advance, its gon cost some shit
Put my trust up in that drac, I cant trust a bitch
I can tell these niggas fake, by how they talk and shit
Ayy, let me hear that ho, Jeff
Real shit, real talk, real money talk
'Til that money on the line
I don't wanna talk
Ayy, that's like more talk, haha,
I want you to ask yourself one question
If you had twenty four hours to live, what would you do?
That's some deep shit right there, a lot
Uh-huh, uh, ooh, damn, baby, shit
How you get all that in them jeans?
Nevermind that, you hear this? Ha, it's that Star Trak
Clipse (get down), So
Uh-huh, uh, ooh, damn, baby, shit
How you get all that in them jeans?
Nevermind that, you hear this? Ha, it's that Star Trak
Clipse (get down), So
it poppin'
Hit me
Front that shit this the south side, got a fat dick on your mouth wide
I've come to take outside, nah do it right here
Hop out
Kat. Heh, get that?
Cop Cris' by the six-pack, Range Rov?' Dot six that
Benz Coupe, drop six that
Buggy eye seven come out? Shit, took the six back
Talkin' big money, bitch, uh
That little shit you talkin' 'bout
That's lunch money
We don't even smoke that
And this shit gon' be like this for
that shit back to the hood
Anytime you see me, man I'm on the grind
Nigga wasn't workin' when you knew you should
Now you talk about me when I'm
Yes we on that fuck shit, no need to talk shit
We playing on these games for the fuck of it the fuck of it
Yes we on that fuck shit, no need to talk
gat, call your clicks,
Spit your game, talk your shit, grab your gat, call your clicks,
Squeeze your clip hit the right one, pass that weed I got
money not Besties
Ain't no small talk, keep that jaw Locked
Click on that pen and then Sign on my check please
Hundreds and fifties and twenties I'm Wit'
I'm twenty-five, twenty-five, twenty-five (I'm twenty-five)
Real shit
Weight of the world on my shoulders
I got the gains though
But they just
I ask is that you pray for me
You know we always payin' attention
Always out handlin' business
Niggas in they feelings
Certain shit can't be
ripped 20 tray
Heard that shit there turned me cuckoo
All of my niggas get paid
It's that same shit different day
And none of them say nothing new
Got
Talk yo shit V uhhh
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo
Talk yo shit V (Uhhh)
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo
Talk yo shit V (Uhhh)
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo shit V
Talk yo
And I'm a keep going, going till I run out of miles
20 on pump three, that's all I need
20 on pump three, gon' set me free
20 on pump three, that's all I
boy, you better ask around, boy
I hit you with the pound, leave yo' ass on the ground
For? You poppin? that bullshit, like I don't pull shit
Fully
all talk now that verb and that verbal appear
Black and conscious, crying freedom, Steve Biko's in here
Airport in my back yard, O.R Tambo in here
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