Lyrics:
he kept under the floor
now I'm with the Three 6 mob pushin them Burbs
niggas done made a come up Hot Boys from the 3rd
{Juicy J}
its
now why would you?
Nigga's die dealin' with dough that's quadruple
Double Up
[Chorus: Mase & Flex]
Where all my down super star's at? (Gettin
A jam that you love that don't be gettin' no airplay
Strictly for frontin' when you're ridin' around
Twelve o'clock at night with your windows down
that real fine chick)
It should've been me
To have been her chaperone
I walked to the corner
Then saw a sharp cat
With a three-hundred-dollar suit
He'd get home at five-thirty
Fix a drink and sit down in his chair
Pick a fight with momma
Complain about the kids gettin' in his hair
At night
on my dick and three many niggas hate my grind
Ten toes down, I need all of mine
Yeah, I be gettin' money, like, all the time
I might drop a bag, but
Swingin' by the tires leave a third degree
And I heard there's bouncin' niggas hatin' wanna murder me
They gon' have to take me straight to Satan
Parkin
Mate ya won't be able to tell
My rhymes give 3rd degree burns to demons in hell I've come to rock the bell
With a pain ya never felt
A salt water
these peoples that creep
Fuckin' crazy niggas, Crack, nigga
Damn, those guys are gettin' dough
That's why all these gangsters come to Coke
We get money,
Me
Come Ride Through These 3rd Row's,
And Let Me Show Ya How I Puttin' In Work Goals
The 4-4 Bulldog Small Enought To Fit In A Nigga Boot
So It's
of the Maybach seats
Feel like a king when I'm on South Beach
Livin' that dream with this M.O.B
Get, gettin' that cream while I travel overseas
Feelin' them
n**** ain no fuckin plug
He sent you up the street
Glock switches we tote federal heats
They burn to 3rd degree
Got bitches I fuck on the campus
real, baby
Gonna keep movin', gonna go to town
I've come up hard, I come up gettin' down
There's only three things that's for sure
Taxes, death
on me, they did it on me, they shitted on me
Man, I'm goin' hard on these niggas, man, that's to the third degree
Yeah, burn a nigga ass so quick, man,
to war, okay?
For real, y'all
Takin' you on another one, son
Uh, Julio Iglesias
Makin' cream like that nigga
Yo, first of all, son, peep the arson
A jam that you love that don't be gettin' no airplay
Strictly for frontin' when you're ridin' around
Twelve o'clock at night with your windows down
But I can't I get a rush blowin' dough
I'm gettin' bank I'm in a rush to blow the dough
This is the life I'm in a race to get money
This is the life
Always showin greatness
I'ma be the greatest
Version of me
Burn you alive to the 3rd degree
Learn to survive super star ima beam
Take em all with me, yuh,
fogged up
Puffin' blunts, sippin' Goose, and damage
God Damn it's hard, but still, we gettin' by like rhino's
Ones that peel, crucified on the Earth for
worried 'bout that
I'd rather be loved by legends with careers that really last
Than accepted by some weirdo on YouTube with a podcast
Retired, now I'm
fogged up
Puffin' blunts, sippin' Goose, and damage
God Damn it's hard, but still, we gettin' by like rhino's
Ones that peel, crucified on the Earth for
grind
Scavenger hunt the dough I find
Good Intuition. 3rd eye sight
Ptsd from eye sight
Back to the wall
But I fight
Climbing my way
Just tryin' to get some cash buy some sneakers fix they hair
Ride up Lennox Ave. you smell the reffer in the air
3rd Ave. viva Puerto Rico the Boricua
like a bank teller
'Cause a fool and his dough soon split
So when you come across a fool get all that she be gettin'
Ladies, get your paper too
Don't
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