Lyrics:
they do is chop it up
Buyin' opps by the pound, bitch, it's called wholesale
Told you come and shop with me, I took a class in retail
Fuck a fishbowl,
I saw you last evening
In a shop on the King's Road
Looking through the window
Just as it was going to close
Our eyes met for an instant
And then you
got to talking shop, and I said,
“How'd you come by that name on your truck -- Giddyup Go?”
“Well,” he said, “I got it from my pop.
Dad use to drive
up flac he open shop another body bag
Another body bag and tag em bitch these niggas Faggots
Wrap these rappers like a brick i put his ass in plastic
fuckin broads in nail shops
Hydro? got more bags than bellhops
Two thousand benz on my eight by ten picture
Papichu', slayin crews in icu
Battlin, usin
The Lord God Almighty in battle is he
Who is the king of glory? The master of heavens supreme
Who is the king of glory? The one that death could not stop
Who
never get old
And the champagne's always cold
And the music is always good
And the pretty girls just happened to stop by in the hood
And they hop
a quick stop
Askin granny's for a quick top
Now I'm sleeping in a cop shop
Atleast that gummy really hit the spot
When I came I came a lot
When the cops
bitches
While I remain inside a
Paradox called my block
Though gunshots is promised to me
When will I stop?
I hit the weed and hope to God I can fly high
VICTORIA:
In movies about women written by men
The secret to life is plastic
When the gossip stops, we shop til we drop
Order Thai, and look
just gotta go and get it
Meet me on the north i'm serving pick fives
Up by the old WinnDixie
Them late long nights on the block, n***a, know I remember
Been around the top, like it or not
Like it or not, I was at the start
You was saying "stop dat", we was in the dance
We were getting reloads inside
gon' stop me
With your girl, I change the topic to that sloppy-toppy
Got a new thing out in Vegas
I got hoes in different area codes like Nate did
mighty crowded
I`m gonna take these things of mine
And I`m gonna move all out of your life
Stop wasting my time
And I`m gonna move all out of your
your nappy hair till it hurts
Oh what I'm saying
Stop using the rope take 'em real off these streets
Or you might hurt your throat
You know you
Down at the bus stop all dressed in black
Men with their cases on their way to work
The mother superior walks on by a book in her hand
Been banned
Me put the car in drive and me did not stop
When I get to New York I'm gonna set up shop
Bwoy!
I got a hundred guns two hundred clips
Going
One, two, three, four, five, six
Roadrunner, roadrunner
Going faster miles an hour
Gonna drive past the Stop 'n' Shop
With the radio on
I'm in love
my gun in
Waitin for you to come in
I'm comin with that Bang Bang Bugaloo
Hey stop lookin at me, hater
Or it's gonna be "damn, I ain't look at you"
Now
people say, sellin' weight, is a death date
But I can't wait, to set up shop, in the next state
I ain't worried bout a brother tryin' to take mines
make that gum pop
Yeah
She never stop
Like a pit stop
Yeah
She addicted to
My lollipop pop
Yeah
She a vip in my candy shop
Yeah
She wanna lick
(Yeah mane, this for all the street talkin' and bullshitin)
I thought I did good by shedding light to the hood
But yall niggas still hoes (a, I did
truant
By music, I've been influenced
Supply a vibe that's the truest
From Houston, so had to screw it
Checks over strips like Just Do It
I just hit a lick
the box, beat sticks
Four by four, fresh out the tank
Call me Santan, cah, I'm fresh out the bank
Sheep skin coat, fresh out the lamb
Dvla, fresh out
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