Lyrics:
See I disperse to dope, the most convicted felon, strictly G's
No more Glock shit, rock shit, strictly ki?s
I gets my paper, I was taught by older
ass, we back friends like Puffy and Steve Stoute
Cut the grass around my clique so I could see these snakes
You see 'em back in the hood, it's 'cause I
Ooh ah ooh
Ooh ah ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ah ooh
Ooh ah ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Aye
Light it up roll that paper yeah we moving
Got that Glue Trip bumping yeah it
the rawest in town
Cause I'm a (Thug By Nature), strictly for the paper
Ain't nobody steppin' to Steve (B-O-N-E)
I come with the ones, I come with the guns
is the pound chrome Huxtable brownstone
Major paper cake by the layers
If these dudes is live I'm the created player
They callin' 'em kings when
Frank zappa (guitar, synclavier)
Steve vai (guitar)
Ray white (guitar, vocals)
Tommy mars (keyboards)
Chuck wild (piano)
Arthur barrow (bass)
Scott
walking Stonecold Steve Austin
I will never go to court an tell
Let's keep it in the streets
Looking down that 40 barrel
That shit wake me right up out my
know, I don't give a fuck if a fool talkin
Bitch my heart stone cold like Steve Austin
What you fuck with C-4? You know I'm explosive
And you know i got
think my name Steve Nash
You niggas ain't nothing like me
I'm sick to my stomach when I know I ain't chasing no bands
Aye
Take the lil bitch and I pipe
drawers, don't test me
We in like that, you're dead like Presley
When we coming through get tickets to see me
We work for the paper so there'll never be
Christmas Day
Last night my child looked up at me and said
"Uncle Steve?"
He didn't know I was his father
And I didn't know for sure either
I just assumed I
know I'ma shaker
Steve Harvey type flow these bars I'ma match maker
Peep out my pocket hoe, I'm really bout that paper
Go ahead, pack the duffle
We gotta
on a garbage barge piloted by coach steve
Only by our own steam
I will kick with both feet
Till we glide into an island hope that immigration don't see
Maybe
A lot of people dream
About that paper
I put her on the team
I'm a player
Now what you need
My dawg grow
Them thangs by the acre
Basking Robbins
Yeah
And servin' through a stick up or somethin'
Now, I gotta pick up the pump and let it ride
All or nuthin', step aside, or you can hit the paper big time
You
Ayo check this out son
This is my man Nas Escobar
And I go by the name of Cormega you know
(you gonna get your self murdered)
Yo check this out
is the pound chrome Huxtable brownstone
Major paper cake by the layers
If these dudes is live I'm the created player
They callin' 'em kings when
and and bring it back
First job I was only 8 matter fact
after school slang in papers by the stacks
when you was playing tag
I was trying the get the cash
From
dollar bills
Send some paper to my younging
'Cause he just like Steve Francis
He be playing with them rockets
Whipping on the wheel
Got my peddle
seeing more green than Boston/ my stuntin more stunna than Stone Cold Steve Austin/ my time costing go hard and never softened/ pull up fresh and by itself
niggas gon hate
I'm gon stack my paper sit my '71 on '8s
Pull up in the hood get my
Car washed by my babe
Stay what's up to Steve
Texaco shawty straight 32
Got pinned by a junior Baphomet
Nuclear winter with grace like a clown
Two left feet
Giant left feet
Business boy turn the city brown
Toothy
And for my downfall, the just lay await
Imma tip the scale like I lay a weight
Nigga fuck you cause my paper straight
No sneak diss but I sneak spliffs
So
being famous or how
Many hit's their page gets
That are happy being nameless
And absent from your papers
And could never be swayed by
Someone clapping in
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