Lyrics:
feeling so disdained
You don't really want to see the trunk go bang
Represent the city where them young boys just swang
Is it about fame, is it about money
so sick, I shoulda got a medic
But my credit was so pathetic I couldn't afford a debit
When the dropout dropped, I had to cop me a money tree
To front
and the jewelry
Three weeks later, I'm at the P-A-D
Had a little fly ass bitch wit me
Sittin' in a dig, yo it couldn't be
(What up G?) Saw my face on TV
Get money fuck bitches get money fuck bitches
We dope boys I got boys that spray ya city block
Ain't got no fuck boys on my squad we only run it up
I deal with my partner
But no lie I got love for my hometown
I love guns, get money in my hometown
One-seven postcode of my hometown
I walked G's
[Chorus]
(I'm the calm one, but my crew is sorta sick)
Yeah, big l is the first to represent.
Yo, on the mic is big l, that brother who kicks
[8B] We some presidential players, with money by the layers
[8B] Ain't nuthin you broke ass niggaz do that can fade us
[TS] I won't stop rappin, I
'm a hit somebody baby mama from behind
She get it free, she don't need no I.D. she V.I.P.
Join the booty contest, and walk away with a G
Oh MI-oh-ma
drop no dollars, but he do drop bombs
R.I.P. Tay cause he died in the storm, fuck president (Georgia) Bush
See us in ya city man, give us a pound
the Boot Camp Clik
Yeah suckas get the dis
Cause the word on the street is that they ain't got skills
(Top Dog)
I be the T-O-P D-O-G
Represent the reign
jersey, that's word to Camden
These bitches' time tick-tockin', better stick to dancin'
I D&G the wallet, my money tall and brolic
Big-ass backyards,
Uh-Oh,
My life- is P's and B's- Music about B's for P's,
I like- B's getting P's- If you read- my T's and C's,
We-
Will pop the G(in) and T(onic)-
trippin and get caught slippin at night
You might fall victim to one of these wannabe G's
That run the streets, defined by
Living with their Third Eyes
money, we ain't learn how to act
All in the V.I.P. spendin' four or five stacks
You can tell it's T.I.P. from how I bend my hat
Send the waitress
'bout you's a gangsta, nigga you's a busta
Runnin Slobs over, nigga you can't trust a
Nigga from the A-V-A-L-O-N-G-E-S-T-A
And I'ma spray when I have
a masterpiece, No Limit like Master P
Now I am the master, see, that's the way it has to be
My life is a movie, I'm so glad God casted me
I am not top ten, more
slowly will
Surely become Audi
5000, that's word to the D-O-G
So what I'ma do is give these niggas the M-IC
And let them prove themselves
So you can
Ha-ha-ha it's goin down like this ma-fucker!
Is the shit gone ever change, cause I be caught up in the middle of it,
Click my pistol, and then in
Like they, superior, naw brah, who you wit'
D.S.G.B. my clique, all the money that we can get
In the mint, gone and pick, I'm like Vick, Vapor Rub
Pinch
Chorus:
Countin all this money what I love to do
You ain't have no money this s**t new to you
Flexing on you n****s what I'm used to do
What I'm used
Got up wit lil' ma, had the whole lick layed out.
Put the Gucci on the door seat.
Countin' some mo G's, the dice game damn near broke me.
So I
stays on
I remember some bone thugs and peace
Over honey bees and harmonies blessed by the old and young G's so
I say it's blessed by the old and young
it's war outside
When it's money, we gon' wake up and go run it down
In the trenches lurkin' for that sack, I'ma go hunt it down
They ask me why I do
Ha-ha-ha it's goin down like this ma-fucker!
Is the shit gone ever change, cause I be caught up in the middle of it,
Click my pistol, and then in
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