Lyrics:
the loc'est in the game
The rap prime minister Mr. G Thing
[Chorus: x2]
Harmonizing to fade with interjections of y'all gone miss me
(yeah)
Five thousand ones, yeah, you know Young wit' it
So high up in the air, she need a flight to go get and it (ha-ha)
Still Mr. Magic City, you know
One, two
One, two, three, uh
Yeah
I was working part time in a five-and-dime
My boss was Mr. McGee
He told me several times that he didn't
pleases, passion of mine
Thuggin', huggin' plenty of G's
And laughin' while I pass through times
And all these bastards that be watchin'
Just keep it
a buzz in you ear
"It's gonna snow" or maybe perhaps sleet
Rap up the beat outside barely made it to your wake
Lookin' like Mr. fisher, dickie down no
I wake up and got four or five bitches in the bed
Smokin weed, Drinkin liquor by da keg
I was born an O.G. if yaint heard about me
I put four
twinning up
Really not enough
Brodie tryna pick these n's off
Rolling by streets
Hitting up my exes tryna find out 'bout me
Bro we chilling five deep
Had 'em
Miss Grove G r o v e e e e Like Love a a a of v v
v Miss Grove is such a nice teacher er er er
all. She e e e is I I I beautiful. Miss Grove is
fu
chorus: X2
This is here for the g's and mack's
Real niggas ride burbans and lac's
You see this shit here for the g's and mack's
Ain't trippin
went
Push em back, Push em back, way back, way back
B-E A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E
And the death of a cheerleader
Takes me by surprise
How the death
gon' go on vacation
Wait, damn, okay that's way too far ahead of me
So I'm just tryna take it day to day if they would let a G, breath
Cop cars by
the hard way
Putting rappers outta commission even on an off-day
Flavor Unit rules G, we're taking rappers out
1 motherfucking 2 motherfucking 3
to catch up
I got five g on the trap but Forgiatos on the Bentley
I stay with ten hoes on my line but only one gone really tempt me
Won't let em catch me by
Frank Nitty see,
Oz's to make g's
The mayor gave me and P keys to the city
Livin' an American dream
5 karats on my pinky ring
Ladies wanna make love to me
They're putting up this new internet tower by my house
Do you know what kind
I don't know, metal maybe steel
No, I mean what G
4G? 3G
5G maybe
That's
different from yours (that's right)
It's the law for me to get in your drawers
I run the city of course, they call me Mr. Diddy, the boss
You know me,
gonna pick up when you call
Who gonna put you on the flight
G5, G5, got you all on a vibe
Ooh, and everywhere we go, we standing in a VIP
If you want
this shit is hysterical
By my nephews and nieces I will email Jesus
Tell him forward to Moses and cc Allah
Mr. soul survivor does that make me
when you see
Them West Coast G's mobbin' 4 and 5 deep
And flossin' whips
Shake it, shake it babe, West Coast Gangstas 5 deep
And that's killa...
so I can drop my macadoshar shit like the blunt clip
And recognize a pimp read Mr. speak the G's obsolete don't sleep bang the skims in the week
that sound like Heaven (uh-huh)
Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one
Come on Mr. Smith, come get some (some, some, some) (yeah)
When young sons
call ourselves
Soon as we got a taste of wealth
Now we sound like niggas with a
Bigger arsenal on our shelf
Trained and schooled by G's
Death before
May...I... kick a little something for the G-O-D's in the J-E-are-S-E-why
Because you niggas know me I'm the da gan ya dee
Sixteen five four three five
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, what
Snoop double, D O G, what, mr. X to the Z, yeah, and Kurupt
The kingpin, DoggHouse Records takin over the shit in
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