Lyrics:
hate me, ho, 'cause that's the way I gotta G it
P-A-T, baby, that's me, baby, Free Pimp C and that's real OG, baby
This dedicated to my niggas on lock
[8B] We some presidential players, with money by the layers
[8B] Ain't nuthin you broke ass niggaz do that can fade us
[TS] I won't stop rappin, I
callin
Henacee and weed when they bury P
a quarter key, 6 G's, when they carry me
fall on my knees to no nigga
trapped in this hood, raised by
Spurting, Spiritual, Lyrics
Like the Holy Koran
N****s get Shook Like 5-0
My 4-5 gun is next to me when we ride
Plus Survival
Money Making plans
Pistol
(Get funky)
I'm droppin science
[VERSE 4]
The Vernon Posse along with me Craig G
Is gonna rock it till the crowd begs me
fuck me in no G4
Cartier frames with the Gucci flip flops (Buss)
Blowin' money fast, man, I'ma be Rick Ross (BIA, BIA)
Look, see, I inflated
booty shake music in your trunk
As long as there's that "tic tic" followed by that bump
I'm down to stick a ho if she got a G-string
'Cause the niggas
by the smell
A glimpse of hell and bodily melt down
Is what I felt now
I cam with 500
Tryin to keep it all
But she want it
At the ATM to get 4 more
he made the rims poke
Trust me they can't touch P, in one touchie
Turn drop-head coupe to dune-buggy
Admire the verses, their inspired by
on my B-O-D
I'm with the AOD, it's a G-O, here we go
I'm G double O-D, good, I'm a OG
Three, triple OG, hold it down, P-O-P (here we go let's go)
I
on, and the most hated
Hated by niggas with no hustle
Starin' at me in the club like I won't bust you
In the face with the spades, life is a card
feeling my pain, know what I'm saying
Dear Lord, street life ain't no game, know what I'm saying
It's for my money really, fuck the fame and I ain't playing
got me caught up, stuck
Trapped in a corner
But it's Westside for life
I'm representing California
And anybody who lost a loved one
Rappin' 4 Tay
the lot fo' lockin' it and you know that im co-rocking it
Shoebox full of money with a sock in it
And we celebrating the ghetto by popping it
So no
got more juice than ojay
got more four than fourplay
got more game than M.J.
and like Cube say today will be a good day
25 G's for a key
P.I.G., and several other New York rappers
Jay-Z, from "Hawaiian Sophie" fame, Big Little whatever
And several other corny sounding motherfuckers
Are
the machine
Got this money up, with no caffeine
Prepare me is Kerosene struck by
A bunch of lightening
You looking at me then your sight seeing
And what that
weight get P.O.P
Naughty by Nature your trespassing O.P.P
Your O.T. yeah nigga I can get it to you
Sold in a see through right price I deliver
Tell ya
on the Chasers, definitely get busy
We get money, stay a hundred
We don't never keep it 50
And we don't cosign no rats over here, my G
On scopes on them straps over
BK, not at all
Four pound leave your face on the wall
R.I.P in memory of
Never show thy enemies love
We get it on where we live
Better have a pass
gots to stay alive keep close to my 4-5
keep my eyes on the prize can't be victimized by bitch niggas in
disguise
pretendin to be my thug nigga but all
the gate, and got the camera with ???
And twenty g's in my draws, money taped to my balls
And I really can't move [Why?] or that shit might fall
Soldiers
still ain't finish fuckin busting
(Master P)
Won't leave no witneses to talk about it
Mr. Serv-On got life insurance
and i'm
here
[Master P]
Holla bloody mary lookin' eyes of the demon
when you see a thug like a G screamin'
I smoke green with the reaper
I'm from the ghetto
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