Lyrics:
hard
Please, get up and take brown tip punk
'Cause you might get dumped
Your producers are bitin', your gettin' paid but your lame
And no two songs
so hard shit it caused a contusion
(Yeah, yeah)
We made a million by twenty one
My homies gon pull up with twenty twos
Want smoke we gon fill up
Five minutes away from where I live, made it to the crib
Out in Gross Point, need a new garage opener
Got into it with my bitch, she mad I don't be
the chips
See law ain't no good unless two dice hit
Hate me even if I didn't ice my shit
Fuck niggas, make that money and lots of it
Sold four million
star
Watch me play with my guitar
Got 2,000 on the car
I've been fucking on a whole lot of broads
Need a brand foreign in the garage
Feeling like a Migo
life
Now it's 2002 my ego is bruised I done sat on every lot with every car that is used
They walk by but never pick me they say I'm not reliable
I'm
the Dodge
'Cause the baseheads keep breakin' in the garage
I keep saggin' in my 'Lac with my butt out, I strutt out
Look at my two front tires - you know I
Team full of animals, like I coach the heat
Four floor mansion, close to the beach
Six car garage, this how I'm supposed to eat
In Miami, rolling up
Cristal throwin money in the sky?"
His fit so sharp and his wheels so large
The rims keep spinnin but the car stay parked
Fo' bedroom with the two car
On the road, in my car,
Know exactly where you are⬦
You Been On 2 Me
By the stage, at the shows,
At the game with the Proâ¬"s,
Cant be phased, cos I know⬦
way too many commas
Mona Lisa in the hall, three safes in the wall
Two iPhones, hundred killers on call
Eight car garage, ten grand for
gotta school y'all to the game (one, two, one, two), you know what lets talk to em, Lets go!
(Joe Budden)
Them wolves is out nigga
(Ransom)
to me
Time and space don't apply to me
My garage, abracadabra
Ice whip, two chicks that look like Cleopatra
Whip too refined for the horsepower
Got it
swear, man (ah)
Lately I been fucking bitches by the two's (two's)
Getting millions by the two's (two's)
Black gulley, black seats, hop out in Chicago
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Let's go
Yeah, listen
The sound of the horns says it's on
We storm through like C. Thomas, Red Dawn
Step like a don
garage in Westwood Village, Los Angeles, California. He must be dead by now, dead somehow, bled somehow. The joy in his eyes when I said wow after he had
niggas stay on top)
Everybody talkin' 'bout Pac's life
I want money in large amounts
My garage full of cars that bounce
Movin' my tapes in major
Before I check the mic (check, check, one, two)
I give it an extra swipe with a Lysol disinfectant wipe (good evening)
Coronavirus in effect
and two cars and two masters' degrees
Ask where I'm from and you'll know how to check
Just look at the tag on the back of my neck
It says "Made in Suburbia"
Catalina and little
By little I worked
Through to the end of the script at which
Point I might have left: only by
Then those two boys from
The finance
been great Dame
My bitch is a great dame, my dog is a GREAT DANE
You know me I'm from the 2-4 and A train
Now I got 6 homes, 10 cars, 8 names
I might be
the havoc, this is magic
Fake niggas flee out, fly out the mouth, I get you gatted
Sports cars, re endorsed yards
Everybody four stars, ray like forty jewelry
Artist: Ray, Goodman & Brown
Album:
Title:
By:
Offset:
Heaven In The Rain -1981 - 4:19
LP/CD: Stay - Polydor 1981
Composers: D. Thomas
Angels and sailors
Rich girls, backyard fences, tents
Dreams watching each other narrowly
Soft luxuriant cars
Girls in garages, stripped
Out
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