Lyrics:
it make sense to me please
What does it mean to be free?
Opened up the door, then slammed it in my face
Been running from my shadow, been running
only knew
The she was getting mutted by the whole damn crew
What would she do?
What would she do?
(What's your name?)
G-Reg
(What'd you do?)
Get head
Big boy
Big boy
Big boy
give me two pairs
(Cause) I need two pairs
(So I) can get to stompin' in my Air Force Ones
Big boys stompin' in my Air Force
that ass hop
All the fellas like to see you make the planet rock
Call it what you want it, ghetto futuristic come get up on it
There's a bianc up in
so my gun still out
Heard you told on your mans what the fuck that about
I got that pipe on me hoe nigga pipe down
Fourty go boom like a stain get
Buried in Louis, I'm talking all brown linen, huh
Talk stupid, get your head popped
I got that Esther, bitch, I'm Red Fox
Big B's, Red Sox
I get
[Chorus x 2]
(What you doin'?) Nothing, chillin' at the Holiday Inn
(Who you wit'?) Me and my peeps; won't you bring four of your friends?
(What we gon'
do, we do what we wanna do
You wan' get shot? Go 'head, run up in my spot
My lawyers'll have me out by one o'clock
Go 'head, get dropped trying
you insane or get you murdered
And shorty layin' on her back
While your blowin' trial
So don't trust a big butt and a smile (Naaah)
And shorty layin'
and a choppa (what else?)
And a desert on a dirt bike (skrrt), VLONE shirt and the Pradas (fresh)
Big nigga fresher than you, fuck you and your stylist (woah)
Blastin jazz, Louis Prima, now I need an cngelina.
Change the mood like Margarita, find your drive and feed the meter.
Keep your balance, fuck the teeter.
my bandana
Audemar P. so I cannot damn stand it
How I feel 'bout them Xans same way I feel 'bout a ham sandwich
Fuck them girls together, make 'em
himself after a bag
Nigga you's a hoe, a Louis Vuitton fag
My name ain't dick so keep it out ya mouth
It is what it is, look I am Da South (That's right)
know, he's represented by a clarinet....
The part of the Grandfather will be played by Don Amiche.
He... what?
Can't make it? Oh. Huh.
Okay, um, hmm,
rock Louis Vuitton what you on yea
Tryna put my family on
I get that check and we gone
I get that check and we gone
Yea this real gold on my charm
I
the cash like a XO chain
Fifty-five hundred, nigga, that's your range
When I go to the club, make it storm, hurricane (yeah)
Nigga pull up, think he G.I.
tense
So I like to live my life like a big carnival
Get drunk, act like an animal
I like the rock'n rolll, the funk, the jazz and hip-hop
Suckers get
and a fucking drama queen too
For some reason I still make excuses just to see you
I know that we toxic, but I'm feeling like I need you
I know bout your
Nothing chillin at the Holidae In
(Who you wit?) Me and my peeps won't you bring four of your friends
(What we gon' do?) Feel on each other and sip on some
or die
Make the hardest motherfucker cry when
A MC pass by
I flip rhymes off the top of my head just
Like Raid I spray MC's until they dead
A vocal
to do with my private life
So stay the fuck out of my business and tend to your own damn life (life)
So go 'head and say what you want to say
About who
spot, cut the Glock it got red dot
And you know that he got ran down, put one up in his top
He ain't make it, he got it all in his head uh
Yeah, in his
[Chorus x 2]
(What you doin'?) Nothing, chillin' at the Holiday Inn
(Who you wit'?) Me and my peeps; won't you bring four of your friends?
(What we gon'
to forget him
'Cause it's easy to please me
CD skip when your head board hit the wall
Call for the lord
Right when you cum, I'm biting your tongue
Make
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