Lyrics:
We got that green stuff, Big Tite
Lil Flip the Leprechaun, Slim Thug the Boss Hogg
Fin to put it all in why'all face
I got too much money, too
nigga never do that
Who's says he's going through a thang when ya'll ain't never lied.
I gotta a baby but it's momma act like he ain't mine.
Wicked
tight ( In yo life )
[Cap.One]
Everybody want to live dat thug nigga life
Talk plenty shit while dey holdin da dice
Chain off da hook, da Roll fulla
him insane
Give his Rover the new name, the firing range
When we see you yell fire and aim
Cause when I fire them thangs it's like
(You will be wonderin
to the mid to the east coast
Verse One: Master P
I got heroin and cocaine
some call me the dope man a young nigga havin thangs
A thug like Tupac
a brave girl, do your thang
Let them tities hang, I'll have all the bitches sayin
When it comes to sex I'm similar to the thriller in manilla
to drop, stop
You ain't know I'm nice girl, you'se a 'Wannabe'
Like the Spice Girls, you betta think twice, girl
I'm untryable, undeniable
Won't be held
with big thangs
Jewels chip, money clip, phone flip, the six range
I seen her on the Ave, spotted her more than once
Ass so fat that you could see it
'ma cop the 6 at the beginnin' of winter
Chrome it out and then fit it with timber, that's wood grain
What you ain't know, this a hood thang
All my thugs
Allah just, I lay it for the mix tapes
Quick to quake a label-mate
The sound came outta rusted crate
Surrounded by cobwebs
Beat smooth enough
and don't speak
All why'all want to talk like we used to hang
'Cause I'm doin my thang, now you want to bask in my fame
That's why I stay out the club,
put a twist wit' it
You can't do like me, I'm by myself
I do it so good, I don't need nobody else
What's happenin'? What's up?
Got da purp fired up
to a true, what could I do?
Real homies help you get through
And come to knew he'd do the same thang if he could
'Cause in the hood true homies make you
how I do that
By the thug way, package and transportin' the drug way
Only means of makin' a livin', the Crip and Blood way
I'm on grates when i
words you think are tough
By movin? herbs, you think you're rough
Spice Girl figures, your hype man sucks
Y'all powderpuff, stop thumpin' stuffin'
thugs
Don't mind gettin paid for shakin her thang in the club
I mean, beat bopper she loved the tote shoppers
Call her head nurse then I'ma be the doctor
Every time I need that thang, bitch, you do threw it to me
Livin' through me, got a Mozzy chain
For you gang and on your grave
When your son get
Aye
Aye
Yeah I still got my trunk popping
Still got my thugs rocking
Still with the plug shopping
Still got some hefty pockets
Yeah I still got my
yea yea)
In your mind, I call my pistol cause it stay by me (Uh-huh)
That's like my brother, lucky mothers
We ain't nothin to see (Uh-huh)
gone (all right)
Fuck up all your hoes in your bed
(Twilight Zone to 1999 yet, Spice 1)
Don't you ever in your bed
East Bay Gangsta, gangsta hoe,
to work my body
He really taught me how to go down south
He really really tried to hurt me hurt me
I really love his thug and gangsta style
Yo we got
It's all eyes on me
Live the life of a thug nigga until the day I die
Live the life of a boss player 'cause even gettin' high
All eyes on me
Live
You wait like "Sixth Sense" 'til hard to kill
How you livin' Streetlife? I'm surrounded by criminals
Serial killers tote guns without the serial
that be by lookin like everyday people
Tryin to get up in my mindframe, stop me from doing my thang
See if I was a killa, y'all would hear my
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