Lyrics:
[Swiss Beats] Money, cars, clothes, hoes [x2]
I'm from the ghetto so gimmie my money
[Lil Wayne] Mr Angel on the beat
Young mula baby, and the devil
I drive fast cars, eat lunch by lakes
and meet a hundred different bitches when I drop new tapes
I had to sacrifice, get things right
In this rap
figgaz
Check game you lil' young punks
World wide mob figgaz
All you niggas is jealous cats
What? what?
Uh, uh, now put them hands up
Rich niggas
his life, workin' overtime even though he tired
He can't go to sleep 'round none of his brothers, he know they slime
Seen a nigga kill a nigga, go
on the phone
What's up John, where the green, and I ain't gon' ask you twice
Bring it over by yourself, or I'll take your momma's life
In the life
whippin'
When I roll it up you know I always mix it
Smoking on three strains I almost burned down the kitchen
Get the money fast, you know with my bills I'm
Yeah yeah, ha
She thought she was different for that, like
Huh, huh
I been moving way too fast, I needa' get back to the base
And my soldiers playing
busy tryna' get bigger
I'm chasin' them figures
My bitch booty thicker
My enemies bitter
I roll with them hittas
Tryna change my life
I want my lil
solved
Can't fuck with you dawg cause I really might rob you
Tie you up and leave you in the Bayou
Come here lil mama I really wanna try you
Purchase
that's how it started
Lights over the bed, it's a party
She grindin my shit like a ten speed she
Tiny and fast like a rari
Her side drawer by the door's
the lob
She eat dick corn on the cob
Did his bid got hit with fraud
Nigga diss know how that end
Save her name as 50 Cent lil bitch got hit by many men
Oh
the spot
Might need more gas
Yeah the rest going fast
Might need me an arm, might need me a leg, might need me a chest
Burned by the fire
Watch lil brodie
bitch, lil' boy boss up, and be a man
Better tighten up your life, we out here playin' for the land
You can't play me like no goofy, wocky hoes in my DM
figgaz
Check game you lil' young punks
World wide mob figgaz
All you niggas is jealous cats
What? what?
Uh, uh, now put them hands up
Rich niggas
Y'all lil' niggas ain't up on my level
I'm so sorry that they think I'm Illuminati
Y'all niggas so high, I swear you worshiping the devil
I'm so sorry
out this music not knowing it's life expectancy
But this is my therapy so here check out my melody
Mann I'm tired of fighting but lil' homie in ain't
the gang your life will get screwed
Life I been living too fast might pour me a deuce
Hang with the people who trapping & shooting
I'm on the block I got use
you ain't never been no problem
Raised up by Wayne, Big and Mad Max off Top Shottas
Hung with drug lords my whole life, I'm used to countin' commas
all I know is to get it, fast money fast lane how I'm living
Since a lil one all I know is get money, you played Nintendo I was out selling midget
I was
A hit ain't shit, I learned it in class
Creep slow, shoot fast
This is the way I live, fuck pain and torture
Believe in life, sex money and murder
niggas
[Lil Jon:]
I wish a mutha fucker would say something
Fuck around and get your goddamn ass whooped
Nigga I feel like startin some shit,
and I
play the block I ain't the type to punch your clock
I'm the type to put the metal to the floor in the drop
I live life in the fast lane, I make a grove
fucked me up
Then I would skeet-skeet every girl after replying "best of luck to ya"
Fast forward couple months I'm like "wassup witcha?"
'Cause
and trapping is a pit stop or sub genre
Listen to the fans let em all warn ya
About the lessons of Rob Co you know he'll learn ya
Out I might turn you when you
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