Lyrics:
the rookies, six for the pros (NAH)
Seven for the numbers of them f***in zeroes (WHAT?)
Eight for haters, nine for the cause
Ten for my n****z, behind
the rookies, six for the pros (NAH)
Seven for the numbers of them f***in zeroes (WHAT?)
Eight for haters, nine for the cause
Ten for my n****z, behind
whats coming up next how many?
4) Im a guy do you mind that i got plenty?
Good cause i dont let me ask you number 5
5) Would you always keep or tell me
Fut’ would say,
I C8, like Corvette Speed,
Them man sing in court, that’s weak,
Them man don’t pop corn on street,
They only pop corn,
In front of 3
where i sleep, now give me my key
[Verse 8: N.O.R.E.]
New York get the blood money, dirty cash still sweet
We will blackwall street by the swapmeet with
cheeks ya3nii andalé
Hardaway in n out again
Yeh
Hittin deep like these 808s
Fadeaway like Im number 8
Yeh
I Shaq Diesel dat ass in ways
She wan tape watch
(throw it up)
Southwest to Brightmo', Puritan to 6 Mile
Number streets won't hold 'em up (hold 'em up)
Eastside you see the E's, Westside show the dubs
never switch
Still cracking, I get active, I'm blue number fifth
Every time it's bounce out, ain't no more tense
I'm a joint for my six, but it come
and we said look at that fucker dance."
It takes one to know one
It takes two to tango
Three cheers for the DJ
cnd four on the floor
Five fingered
The number you have dialed is not available at present
Please leave your message after the beep
I just wanted to let you know - that I miss you
You
a tourin nigga, six-foot-eight floss nigga
who carries champagne in the club with Coogi sweaters
Borin nigga, no game havin
Less rap skill, N.B.A. nigga
Still standing on my two fucking feet
Done seen some shit that you ain't never even seen
Swear a nigga really got PTSD
Traumatized by each one of them
6 6 3 7 3 9 6 7 3 7 2 8 6 7
Cause I'm a phone sex operator
I'm only seven digits away
Cause I'm a phone sex operator
I'll give you service every day
One yourself and two - run up with three gats
A 4-5, or six shot seven let eight clap
The nine milli throw ten shots
Where your face at
And the mac
Merched On the 6
Niggas is Moos
Oinking on me I put 5 on ya crew
I put lil 4 on a nigga he through
My niggas throw 3s
don't know about you
Oh that's yo main
the rookies, six for the pros (NAH)
Seven for the numbers of them fuckin zeroes (WHAT?)
Eight for haters, nine for the cause
Ten for my niggaz, behind big
The Neighborhood going for gold
Oh no, you suppose to be the boss
But can't take the loss
So you can't face the L
But it's blown across
By the Six Three One Illitia
a menace, be itchin' to click
PTSD, who that in that whip?
You got shot then ran, then snitched
83 my demon, for him, throwin' six
When I'm mad, I'ma empty
One, two
Oh the shit I’d do to you
But three, four
Imma just show you to the door
Cause five, six
You turned out to be a bitch
Now seven, eight
You
To busy fucking on freaks
To many thots in my past
I took a look to the right
I'm Mesmerized by that ass
We ain't studying math
The topic was sex
She hoping
was once said by Black Thought that +Things Fall Apart+
Knew I shouldn't have been messin' with dude's girl from start
But I pimp from the heart,
copped on those calicos
Keep shittin, with ziplocks of that cali dro'
Keep hittin, and shift blocks for that cali dough
Keep gettin, my tip rocked by
calicos
Keep shittin, with ziplocks of that cali dro'
Keep hittin, and shift blocks for that cali dough
Keep gettin, my tip rocked by them cali hoes
It's
on her feet
Seen her 3 times this week
If she passes by then I'll speak
I came up and made my introduction
First and last name said my government
Seen you
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