Do Dat

[Intro] Aiyyo check this verse out My platinum chains, my big willy, my Mercedes-Benz That's right? {*laughing*} [Verse 1] Are you a gun busting nigga? (Buh-Buh-Buh-Buh) Are you a bitch baggin nigga? (Whu-Whu-Whu-Whu) You got ice and ya chain and ya chong wit your Rolly on Not just any Rolly but you bought the most expensive one. Hey take ya car keys*Jingle Jingle* to ya class E Big body be for your CD- I mean, DVD For ya T.V in ya head beats, in ya back seat Haha, y'all think I'm mean Runnin round talking bout the shit that you be talking bout How you the drug game sold up and locked down John Gotti got life and I'm sure he never told nobody Boy lets put on an album so the fuckin feds could buy it You shouldn't be shouting out them bodies you buried Nine millimeters and Techs and them AK47's Illegal weapons you talking bout you snucked in the club You got so many guns Tell me why you rappers steady getting robbed I got two more verses for you (huh) this ain't just to an individual person These questions here for all of ya [Hook] I can write a song without ice, bitches, and cars can you mutha fuckas do dat? (DO DAT?!) I can blaze a track without bustin a gat at a cat can you mutha fuckas do dat? (DO DAT?!) [Chorus 2x] Yoouuu gon' have to change up all yo shit in a little bit When the radios in the club get to pumpin this And they start to finding out what what rappin really is [Verse 2] Verse 2, now that you know what the song's about y'all probably cussin me out You gonna listen to it anyhow Lets talk about somebody like Eskimo Rentin they jewelry from Jacob and don't think we know You got a platinum piece but your chain is plain white gold After the video it got to go back to the store That's Crazy, talkin bout some shit you don't own Oughta be ashamed of yourself Yo, don't they call that frontin, holmes? You ain't Jigga, Nigga Nor can you spin like Puff And got a cash money deal So what's your Big Willy talk for? I get so excited man, your track got me leapin Then you start rhyming and *Yawn* I get sleepy [Chorus] [Hook] [Verse 3] It's a sad situation, record labels buggin out 'cause they star artist done ran out of shit to talk about (Whoa!) Yeah that's crazy and you think about it baby Only thing that changed in yo rhyme was ya date "2000" Oh that shit is hot, put that on the album You heard it with my man kick that shit (??) Loud and proud, nigga swear he be throwin down Arthur lose his voice every time he opens his mouth I oughta hold up a signs and boycott they ass right No more muthafuckin sound alikes! Sound-a-like (Mobb Deep!) Sound-a-like (Jay-Z!) Sound-a-like (B.I.G.!) And we don't need no more please! [Chorus]