Lyrics:
that big bomb pillows take ya way back
My back is getting smaller and my man ain't callin' back
If he don't call by tomorrow
I'm gonna have to start
Ron Oilers
That's how you feeling
Aye
I got em pissed off
I move around like a big dog
Character speak ion big talk
Don't think it
I know I'm
the fuck out
Get the fuck out
Tell her get the fuck out
Get the fuck out
Get the fuck out
Turn the white house into the black house
She got a big mouth
Can't
JP Did This 1
Kells, this is a real rapper's theme music
Bitch, sing to it
This how you cook up some dope with no powder
Don't turn on that stove
on being a lap dancer
Yeah, you’re not ready, you black Somalian
You’re not ready
Don’t even open your mouth blud
Before you say something stupid and
You get
bitches big chains what ahh Niggha Chase
Finally got it finally got it taking all Fades
I'm in trap by myself taking all fades
Serve dubs got 8ths like
twenty-four/seven
Steady stackin my ends on dubs, twenty-four/seven
Every car you wish you had, we got it, we got it
Bentleys, Hummers and Jags, big bodies, big
on how to do it
If they don't see the beginning
I know how to introduce it
Mixing making stewy
Man I got the music
Big grind I'm stuntin'
Big grind, big
Sippin' on the mud, no money And I can do this by myself
Smokin' on the bud, no buddy I smoke from the top of the shelf
Showin' fake love, they don
hit saks and spend a dub!
Keep away!!! yeah!!! i don’t need the fake love!
Get em gone by tonight, i been moving like i'm suge
I really got issues, my
Big thangs, thick chains, ain't shit changed
Get brain in the four-dot-six Range
Shit mayn, switch lanes
Every town I hit you switch lames, bitch
seat recline, they notice the hand
Car movin' slow, driven by the invisible man
Everything on the dash, digital and
I got a fast stashbox don't make
Big house
New shoes
Designer belt
Balenciaga
Ferragamo
Whole lotta talk with yo big mouth
Watchu want a Range Rover
A Brand new caddy
Provided to you
By
Big Tymers in a private jet
Got the head of Universal to sign the cheque
Meanwhile Ludacris is out arrangin' rovers
Every coast watch out 'cause
Goin hard going hard
Spitting bars spiting bars
Tryina reach the stars
Maybe we'll hit mars
Wake up don't hit snooze
Hit snooze and you'll lose
Dubs
Fuck on your daughter
I'm with the gang nigga
No this not slaughter
Yeah niggas need to catch up
I get sauce on me
No ketchup
Big Dub where you at yo
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
I got a big scrote, you got a big tongue
But I dont want the mouth, I'ma beat it like a drum
Would you let me put
your booty drop
Cash is what I'm talkin' about
I don't wanna hear your mouth
You needa put some money down, or get your money up
Why you invadin'
don't know that my mouth numb
Always find me mixin' it with no no's if I found some
He gon' keep on thinking she is no hoe till he outdone
They gon' hear
If we split it we should kill it,
I'm talking three cans by the minute
Don’t get timid start to fidget
What we start we gotta finish, on your
Lil boy
Hush up don’t run ya mouth lil boy
You got too close in my space lil boy
Gotta smart ass mouth ease your pace lil boy
I’m why you here lil
and vaudefillian famous
For singing "Swannee"
Written with words by Irving Ceasar
And music by Ira
Gershwin in 1919 became a big hit for
Jolson in 1920 and was
dub’s doe,
Drove by Eric on our way 2 blow da blunt smoke
How I link another female while I’m in yo city
How I put up w cho shit but chu dip in a jiffy?
on dubs
(Down here) we keep a chicken head up in the club
(Down here) my thugs they get nothing but love
(Down here) we off the chain like you thought we
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