Lyrics:
bling here
Been having a Benz, been having Vettes, been having a Rover
Gotta house by the lake, look here ask Joe Claire, see I told ya
Been having
and by ear
And then she'd find the ancient album,
With its pages turned gold
And the crayon-colored paper star
I made so long ago
But brighter than any
put an extra lime on my water glass (I'm so sorry)
An hour later here she come by walking past
(I hate to be a pest but my son would love your
albums already classic It's got more hits than the majors
I hated mathematics but still love the numbered paper
Yall can suck my dick I made this bar just
I hear your name in the papers
They call me, "Young Ass Weezy"
I'm gon' 'round up the whole uptown
We gon' burn this bitch down to the ground (to
about his everyday life, he ain't the same
Goddamn, I already had a hard life once
Am I supposed to recreate it every album for you cunts? Okay
You
it
Some days I'm happy, some days I'm fucked up
Some days I tell the voice in my head to shut the fuck up
Yeah
Motivated by paper and pussy,
Gotta do what I gotta do
Yeah
Uh, all my exes live in Texas like I'm George Strait
Or they go to Georgia State where, tuition is handled
By
like doves over the streets watchin' many things
Kids walkin home from school, on drug blocks, missionaries
Pass out papers that read love god
I see
a fuck who it is
Don't let em fuck yo' paper man, please Big
Focus your mind man, do your albums, make them hot joints
Man fuck these niggaz man
Fuck
flow more clear
Baby listen here, I been gettin' paper for years
And program directors who fronted they disappear
And grimy ass niggas get laced with
of attention
I'm by his side, with the chrome fifth, playing my position (Notorious)
Sexy, young thing, from the ghetto
That bitch rocking mics in high heel
Hey 'Pac, it's yo' boy
Hey man so far I've been listenin' to your album
And I ain't heard nothin' you could kick back and smoke a beadie to
You
naked papers
You can tell a cat serious about rap and it ain't luck
If 20 years after his first single, his name's stuck
From '74 to '99, did novice
a fuck who it is
Don't let em fuck yo' paper man, please Big
Focus your mind man, do your albums, make them hot joints
Man fuck these niggaz man
Fuck
of bein' honest
I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lyin' here
'Cause I remember it all, all, all
Too well
Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it
never get rich surrounded by broke customers
You gotta learn to maneuver through the tight spots
Dirty bike cops keep searchin' a nigga Nike socks
I
I'll shoot your black ass!
I'm a magnet to money, the paper is where I'm at
They attracted to me, they treat me like Pimp C.
I'm a P-I-M-P yo chick
Three passports, Three first class tickets to the money
Straight flights
I live by the cold war
Drove from round the globe
All I need is
album hit the shelf
Grandma's favorite, she could not understand
How there's people in the world who wouldn't want me as a neighbor
Had to explain
Let's go down to the sea
Let's take a walk down by the sea
See the blood soaked sand go down to the sea
It's such a beautiful night, love when
the dirt, nigga can't you tell?
Don't I ride by in that SSL?
Snoopy had to get it on, ball, beat ten of y'all
I'm just tryna show 'em how them men evolve
'Zy rollin' with my cateye, deadeye
Ain't afraid to flame a rat up
But I hot out fathom
My album hit the shelves
We hustle for record sales
Hit my
the clip like one,two,three
If she by my side you can't fuck with me
She always ride stay tucked with me
I love Whitney she loves me
Empty the clip like
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