Lyrics:
I make you bounce and wiggle, and do this and that (what?)
Timbaland (uh-huh) where you live at?
VA baby, believe dat (ayo, ayo)
Now I'm rich, I
still getting all my meals for free
I think I'm being shunned by my feet again
Now it's not a homeless life for me
It's just I'm home less than I'd
please?
I don't have my license and registration right now
But if you give me a chance, I can go home and get it
Oh what are you a wiseguy son?
No I
Now what y'all want me to do
Keep your shit the hardest
It's about to go down
Niggas is ready to start this war that's for sure
They can come
please?
I don't have my license and registration right now
But if you give me a chance, I can go home and get it
Oh what are you a wiseguy son?
No I
to live better
Did what you had to do and now you deceased
I hope you livin' in peace don't even stress that beef
Go head and sleep count your blessings
on the way to Damascus
It's like we huddle up, had control of the ball, let 'em sack us
Now they overtax us as if they want to collapse us
Don't be diluted
lungs
I'll run i'll run i'll run
Things get harder it's not you it's me
I gotta keep pushing to the 3rd degree and
My heart was yours it's yours now it's
don't follow the streets, follow the signs
Cause the last thing you wanna do is get lost, cause it might just cost ya life
Y'all heard about
amen, fashion
Celebrate, ooh ooh, a new compassion!
Put it on, amen, fashion
Celebrate, ooh ooh, style your passion!
I want you to imagine
The most
okay faggot?
Don't be so sensitive
If you want to get fucked in the ass
That's between you and whoever else's dick it is
Pause, maybe that line was
From the U S C, I shift ki's, a 120 plane rides
Multiplied by G's, 87.3 million in a matter of months
Big business and big dollars is all that I want
I
up under the Michelins
You know I pop-pop-pop it like a pistol
That's why I keep my wrist lookin' like a disco
And everywhere I go they tell me that
boot he a spare tyre
3rd degree I'm inda kitchen I dont mind the fire
Get a box like a funeral just to dress flyer
Remember stuck on curb kicking ball
gone win, it’s a studio
Thang when the beat jump in and you know that shit slap when the squad like
Yehh
3rd degree burns on the hand from the pen game
Well, I took me a woman late last night
I's three-fourths drunk she looked all right
'Till she started peelin' off her onion gook
She took off her
no, oh no
Maybe you're right, maybe this is all that I can be
But what if it's you, and it wasn't me?
What do you want from me?
What do you want
didn't do it I can't fuck with it
NWA is like a mix a fix a trix
Real niggas with big dicks
You're takin' a chance when you think that
Talkin' under
And you put the load right on me
Catch a cannon ball now, to take me down the line
'Cause my bag is sinkin' low and I do believe it's time
To get back
of love in the first degree
You want it all right... we're goin' in style
Say you walk right - you talk right - and your hair's so wild
Snow-white -
alone and all the people with the big hats on went home
So what you gon' do now, Goldie? Your bottom left you
It's up to me and you, Goldie, through
brother do his best
Things are getting worse
We have to make them better
It's time to give a damn
Let's work together, come on, now
People
Well, I took me a woman late last night
I's three-fourths drunk she looked all right
'Till she started peelin' off her onion gook
She took off her
it's Chef Boy A-Bun B
The king of the kitchen
I got exactly what you need to do your thing when you pitching
Guarantee to add a few layers of bling
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