Lyrics:
Oh! Now the dogs keep a-growlin'
Round my front door
And the Truth howled out from the editing floor
Years went by
Quarrymen came along
This boy
groove on
And now you see me jiggy, you puzzled
He ain't sellin' no records
Is he? That nigga gotta hustle
Huh, you bet your guns, by any means
I get my
Her first years three to six,
Playin' house and pick up sticks,
With little Jimmy todd ,the boy next door.
In the first and second grade
Her X
the blue
Why does it hurt so much
Every time we touch?
You givin' me paper cuts (ooh, paper cuts)
(Ooh, paper cuts)
(Ooh, paper cuts)
Boy, oh boy
hustle on the block)
Uh, okay
Kool-aid known by colors, boy, we ain't no flavors
(Ain't no flavors)
We relate to Jesus, most my people born in
wobble
I'm st-stacking my paper my wallet look like a Bible
I got girlies half naked that shit look like the grotto
How your waist anorexic and then
to the fiends
Hoes couldn't take me, niggaz gave me jealous looks
To the world I was a man, to the feds I was a crook
Put my face up in the paper, put my name
you work out, gotta get it right back
I trap by day boy, rap by night,
C-Bone in this Bitch College Park trump tight
[Hook]
[T-Mo Goodie]
I'm pimp
it
Havin' money by the ton, Rolex and Bossalini
A nuchi give Versace cologne, now want to see me
at my best or worst? I gets paper when I burst
Sicker than your average
Money too long, can't stash it
In the closet or the mattress
Paper, stretch like elastic
Checks from advances, the bank can't
Sicker than your average
Money too long, can't stash it
In the closet or the mattress
Paper, stretch like elastic
Checks from advances, the bank can't
a Carrera
Two weeks later I had to be that boy pallbearer
Young king bury me inside a glass casket
Windex wipe me down for the life after
Crack dealer living
figures
Police drive by, I was click clacking triggers
Jay De Lucas put me with the fam to grow
I was a boss amongst white boys rocking the flow
I had
(ohh-oh-ohh, all the above)
Uhh, uhh (ohh-oh-ohh)
[Beanie Sigel]
Yeah, Mr. Him F'Real is here
Curbside by Atlanta, got a mill' out there
Billionaires Boys
A city freeze
Get on your knees
Pray for warmth and green paper.
A city drought
You're down and out
See your trousers don't taper.
Saddle up
can't get a word in edgewise
Now an old country boy just
Can't sit on the porch
And watch while the world passed by
No, he's got to be part
Of some
Pen to paper (Yeah)
There I was
A precocious little
12 Year old boy
With his first crush
I wrote poems
About you and me
I would write at least
home to paper in hand
Ain't gotta brag about the Feds, young man
Old cribs I sold, y'all drive by like monuments
Google Earth Nas, I got flats in
you trust when that paper fluctuate (that's right)
Know their love fluctuate
And the haters fluctuate
They question who you trust when they paper
of here
Nigga be snoring all night I can't sleep (Notorious)
Call that big butt nurse with the long hair to come suck my dick
(Bad Boy Big, c'mon)
Yonder comes Miss Rosie. How in the world do you know?
Well, I know her by the apron and the dress she wore.
Umbrella on her shoulder, piece
want to
By time I was three
I knew how to work a pistol
Hunned rounds drum, it'll let the shit go
Who the fuck is that, roll down the window
Off papers
The songs of the wars are as old as the hills
They cling like the rust on the cold steel that kills
They tell of the boys who went down
home to paper in hand
Ain't gotta brag about the Feds, young man
Old cribs I sold, y'all drive by like monuments
Google Earth Nas, I got flats in
.jpg/217px-Arena_Corinthians_Opening_(cropped-Pitbull).jpg "Pitbull")
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