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Haters approach but they DOA'd Try next week we ain't with it today It ain't my fault you got no money You need to go get you some, won't make me none I hit hard like a slam drum Slum and slang with a ton of games Wreck my brain, my patience wearing in Fake friends trying to blend in It tend to get on my nerves My circles get 'sturbed Split a check firt a real man Chula furs Try to make it home but he struck on third Me fall off? No sir Had did it once before, but I call it whiplash Snap back quick when It comes to cash That's when them niggas start watching ya ass But I make 'em dizzy you like who is it Chorus:2xs [Jim Crow] The backstabbers keep an eye out You better watch out, before they find out Where you hide out, deep down south Shorty ride out, before ya time out [Cha Cha] How many niggas you know down and crazy Down to lie for the baby, in a ride like y'all To many ladies is jealous of the Mercedes And how close we are lately, that's why I don't like broads Either you chickens like all in the business Asking y'all who did it, them inquiring type broads Intimidated cause I could be the misses But I'm like a little sister and I'm tired of liking y'all I only ride shot gun cause it's rightful Make her hope in the back just to be fightful Just because I know it's tight when my eyes closed Just as soon as these niggas drop me off she gone be out though Both times I co-signed the whole nine Proved to be ya third eye when you go blind Know I'm, Miss Cha Cha sadiddy Off the top and many, pop them any And the Crow out to get him Chorus: What's it's gone be is you and me We in the middle of the streets, it's midnight You got a problem wit me my nigga, then get right But sit tight, hold on I got shit up on my mind And every time I rhyme I represent niggas that grind And I find that these gold digging hoes, they out to get a nigga F*ck up my foes and enemies, I'm bout to hit a nigga Let a nigga mettle wit not cheddar, will I kill a nigga? Just because he jealous of the fellas got him drinking liquor Thinking that a nigga is slipping, but I ain't shorty Damn what you keep money for? In the bank shorty, (Wanna get some) Well I can't doubt it, might as well forget about it Lot of folk talk I'm talking shit about him Jack move, get up out it When we pull the ball out to test, so bitch I been bout it Mama said attend college Make it big, my friends doubt it In 5 years I'm gone buy myself about 10 houses Get chin from 10 shorties at the same time Jump in my whip, hit the strip then shine Cha Cha, Jim Crow, Noontime Oww, I'm so fresh like a shoe shine I ain't lying Chorus:
Written by: Micheal Stevenson, Dequantes Devontay Lamar, Paris Alexandria Jones, Keenon Daquan Ray Jackson, Brian Collins, Jamie Sanderson, Olubowale Akintimehin
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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