Lyrics:
the money
I open up my mind by opening bank accounts deposit a 100 stacks
Break up wont take it out baby that's a gift maybe you could live
I knew it
the clouds screaming squad up in your memory
I remember you called me that day I think you was in far rock
You had some bitch in your car and your car
it's a hit, before Chamillionaire even start on a track
I pull up in slow motion, like my car on a flat
Trunk going up, like directions that you saw
I got an album full of memories
I got an album full of memories
Not a lot of faces in these videos
cll you gon hear is some pretty hoes
Dancing
'round (yeah, yeah)
Mr. Nigga, Nigga-Nigga
He got the speakers in the trunk with the bass on crunk
Who be riding up in the high rise elevator? (Yeah,
this needs addressing
Like any artist with my craft, I work hard
I thought you would understand but you was focused on the car
(Are you stupid?)
I
You was out here getting fucked by a bitch as her new contender
You said they had made it known they was out there picking up strippers
While they had
like networks
There ain't shit to prove
Look around the room
They gon' tell you how I move
Step up in the spot
Cleanest cars on the lot
Pressure on me
of that then I gradually graduate
To a harder prescription drug called Valium, like, "Yeah, that's great"
I go to just take one and I end up like having
chances,.. take shots at Cards,.. Let me hop up in this car,.. I gotta drive to mars,. and i gotta show there, so we gotta ride tomorrow, where my dogs!!...
Uh wassup show these niggas how
The west was won
Yeah if you don't know my name by now
Just call me any rapper, could get it
Any month, any week,
Don't get frustrated, it's complicated, he always with his friends
Look, there he go, by himself, slippin', he in that Benz
(Nigga, get out the car, you
Later) for it, no Aubrey
Switch my demeanor up I'm, off my 380 shit
My, future's bright, stars is by my head, baby shit
Make me sick, what you eat don't
popping
Remember the baby name's we were rockin
Had that early
Since the last time I saw you No rest, Work, No stopping
Ready to drop my album when's yours
off
How, nigga? My last album was The Chronic (nigga)
They wanna know if he still got it
They say rap's changed, they wanna know how I feel about it
the presentation to the Audience
It is now up to the audience to appreciate the finished work
To apply seasoning without tasting is an insult by an uncultured,
to fight for this
I feel motherfuckers they goin' say I'm wrong
I feel niggaz goin' get buck when they hear my song
I feel like puttin' 20's on up in my car
off in the whip (Car sounds)
So long
A nigga up in his zone
A nigga up in his zone
A nigga up in his zone
Tell these hoes I'm gone
I already know
You lying
You trying and lying, you boys ain't supplying
I pitch like Nolan Ryan, got cocaina flying
My partners sick up kids, they take what they
gotta turn this fuckin' album in, man
It's been three years
Freddie has himself holed up in a fuckin' suite in Vegas
I know he's tryna charge us for
Stella Artois and a ménage à trois
Pass them both back and forth in the back of my car
I feel like Arsenio in this scenario
Modern day Lothario with
to saddle up the Tontos cause I'm the Lone Ranger
I eat dinner with Jews but don't talk to strangers
I'm just a few albums from filling your disc changer
If
rip up flows that
make an MC stop and chill and say HE'S ALL THAT
Hardcore no R&B singer
Roll with the Hit Squad... down with the head banger
make it hard spin it in the pot and now its millions every year whether albums drop or not
I got the hottest cars I rock the flyest clothes I keep
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