Lyrics:
don't hold it, lovin' that potent
I'm drinkin' and smokin', it still got me goin'
These bad hoes is gruntin', their booties is pokin'
Out them little
year-old skinny Cartman (goddamn it)
An anti-Backstreet and Ricky Martin
Whose instinct's to kill N'Sync, don't get me started
These fuckin' brats can't
don't give a fuck that he paid
I don't give a fuck how much he weigh
Niggas die every fuckin' day
Broad daylight, hit a nigga with the K
By myself, I
So even when the sun don't shine, I still won't be annoyed
Still got that dream
So long as I have your tender love and care
It may not seem like it
regrets, no abortion, had a son
By the name of Seven
And he's five
By the time I do this mix, he'll probably be six
You do the arithmetic
Me do
stupid
Don't need to boast I let the work speak, take my talent down to south beach
Make sure my whole team eat I got that from Big Meech
I'm a show you
regrets, no abortion, had a son
By the name of Seven
And he's five
By the time I do this mix, he'll probably be six
You do the arithmetic
Me do
I'm more like Ricky Martin
Talladega nights is often
Race car driving brakes will soften
Crash and burns if you don't want that first place
Please just
soldiers on the front line
Doing what you got to do to get by (listen)
This is for the struggle it don't stop
This one's for Malcolm, Martin and Tupac
bounce to this track
And I don’t care what anybody thinks about that
Hands to the sky, and throw your head back
I can love again tonight
We bounce
ride for you?
Yeah lil bih, I would die for you
You my Nancy I'm your Syd
I ain't gone forget about it
I don't care about a lil bih
Shawty owe me hella
she bottles, 3 or 4 sitting right there by her table
Bouncer hit her line, don't do lines, but the coke she willin n able, God damn
Hittin that Ricky
of start, get me
When you see me make a wish
I be shippin burbon
Bitches try to blow a kiss
I walked up in the club
And I ain't on the fucking list
DJ see me
soldiers on the front line
Doing what you got to do to get by (listen)
This is for the struggle it don't stop
This one's for Malcolm, Martin and Tupac
what I've done
Who I am or where I'm from
If you don't know it by
Now then you just dumb
I ain't got no pistols, inf beams
Choppers or no Dracos
No car,
from Da Brick City
This is DJ Say What
An' we're gonna blast y'all right now
With the new cut by Redman, ?I Don't Kare?
On W0 Fuck All y'all Radio
come around
Dogging these bitches like I'm in the pound
Really be rocking this Ricky my drip is so sticky you mad cause yo hoe fucking with me
Hop in
kits
Whether cassette radio or CD bits
Mix tapes from the best going on and on
Throughout the city grounds to suburban lawns
Man, we don't play,
Tell them nigga's
Nobody shoot with Ricky Mars
Or we gon' rob yo' ass
Ricky
They got Wooski on the mix
So much questions for the Lord
Keep
Break it down now
Get on your hands comon now don't front get your hands up
Everybody in the club time to stand up
Ricky J's here to play Yo
got Becky then I got Lex
Like bitch I'm a geek, off of the Whitney
I don't remember shorty but she did me
And if that's my bitch she spinning back no
down i hope your moms aint home.
dont make me get on the phone with ricky rodriguez;
bitch ass couldnt handle vicky rodriguez.
i'm not familiar with no
look fam that's the truth
I'll have the whole club sipping Cranberry juice (sober)
You hungry in the rear, my money in the air
I don't know what y'all
drive a Lex, and every time you come up out it you fresh
But I don't care and I don't want to hear
How you pop champagne, I'm over here chugging beer
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