Lyrics:
P-phone
I gotta be slamming, gotta be coming
And you know we smoke weed
We don't fuck with embalming
Cause that shit bad for a G like me
I guess I represent
P-phone
I gotta be slamming, gotta be coming
And you know we smoke weed
We don't fuck with embalming
Cause that shit bad for a G like me
I guess I represent
Iife I just need some loyalty
One sweet ting, oil p’s
Big mansion for all your g’s
If you’re outchea for money you’ll find some disloyal
If you're
learned to grip pistols in BK
Turn my music high, high, high, high-er
Mo' fire, more Rocawear attire
Mo' money, mo' murder now that M.O.P.'s hired
where i sleep, now give me my key
[Verse 8: N.O.R.E.]
New York get the blood money, dirty cash still sweet
We will blackwall street by the swapmeet with
run to the law
That's why I can't even run 'less I run with a four
or I walk with a three, come and talk to 'em P
You can catch me down bottom with
way way to sac. with them crome gats, 40 g's,
4 tires filled of that kill' crack
Don't give a fuck if I die or go to the pen.
I'm headed to the end,
Staying G's for life
Young ballers coming up
Staying high till we die
Have you heard about them boys?
They go by Slowed and Throwed
Steady sipping on a four
featuring Big Ed Lil' Ric
Verse 1 (Master P)
Four niggas in the Chev and we all strapped
Put one up in the chamber case we had
damn yae, Beeyotch
DoggHouse, turnin it out, and if you aint dope you gots to get
The fuck out, that's on the O G D P, (say what)
And that's how it
(Ayy P.A Edited This Una)
All of this money is nuttin to me
Flashbacks to days getting dussed by the Ds
Play your position don’t change on these
Tru G's
See me and P and see
See expeditions with uzi's
Choppin up two ki's
Baby twenty-four oz's a piece
Cause see if it ain't
come up like Guy, won't put my biz in the street
All I can say is that the jack made my life complete
Fifty-four thousand, the cash he left with
Bury me a G
Tell me how can I survive? Remember me?
Life as a G
These money making activities is killin' me
I'm tryna ball
But the alcohol making me
vibes I import bad energy I export
steady working,making the money is a must
but I dey take am jeje cos life no be by force
my guy
ebe one ebe two we
clique to the T-O-P on G-O-D with B.o.B.
Tell by the hat, you could tell by the tat, you could tell how I act, you could tell how I rap that I represent
That's how we breaded uptown soldier,
Never did 4 bitch known how I roll her,
The Porsche came wit candy,
The money on the line,
Hundred G's all
my cool and lose
A tool over petty beef
You couldn't comprehend it G
Life has been an F-ery colour scheme's grey
Got me questioning my God and all
Twenty two
Twenty, twenty two
It's a new me
Smoking on pot feeling left out (G4G where you at?)
As I stay on my past
Twenty twenty two
It's a new me
Two Gloc Nine's cuz I fuck with The G's
And them demons from them p'z
Out here swiping and crackin em C's
We trap we dont woo or twirl
All my trust
I still see P's
Gucci scarves back I still see G's
Prison visit's I still see C
Wandsworth to Hideout I still see B
Got into the graveyard I still see
I Got The Money By 4Nity And Our Mom Lyrics
[Intro: 4Nity And Our Mom]
4Nity And Our Mom
Wooooo
Yeah
You shu shu shu shu shu
I got the money yeah
So
letten em know, I'm fin to erupt like a volcano
Me and my partna Zano
Ron G, Its that grunga, steady smokin Gunja
I'm a come down bunch of money
Boucin
Twenty two
Twenty, twenty two
It's a new me
Smoking on pot feeling left out (G4G where you at?)
As I stay on my past
Twenty twenty two
It's
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