Lyrics:
really you're killing me smalls an I might use
A Pitbull to snatch your fuckin chain, only U-God
Can really judge my name so I Wu Tang the way A con should
Biggie really you're killing me smalls an I might use
A Pitbull to snatch your fuckin chain, only U-God
Can really judge my name so I Wu Tang the way A con
feel old boy you really bold bitch you really needa clean yo nose why you always in the same clothes I’m sending shots and blows I’m sending shots n
While in the penitentiary
She sittin' at home on house arrest
Like "boy don't forget to mention me"
I bounced back smarter
Bounced back stronger
When I
that
Not a hawk, not a pigeon, not a goose, not a duck
Imma walk out yuh life once I run outta fucks
I been told to break a leg by folks that wish I ran
I ain't spit like this in a minute
My style cant be bought nor rented
If I start that shit I end it
Know its history if I pen it
Told you boys I was
RS2!
You never give me your money
You only give me your funny paper
And in the middle of negotiations
You break down
I never give you my
Big Money Tiger let get it huh
Hook
I’m on tv now you can see me boy I am on tv now we getting money boy I am on tv now
featuring Big Tymers, Hot Boys
{Juvenile}
How you love this playboy? This one here bezzled out.
With the Hot Boys and the Tear da
I only see the money surrounded by these bitches
Smokin' on this killa ridin' to my engine T-top soft
I'm wildin' gettin' paper on these niggas
praise my Savior for this paper what we on now 'leggo
I’m blessed like ten fold
This good like queso
I’m frozen I’m cold
I’m 'finna take over
If you
Yo B
Let's go Harder than we did on Serpents ight
This should be easy
We Naturals By now
Let's get it
YEAH!
Notice
I put all you niggas
Imma Notice
Staying out the way and never chasing the clout
And we don't give a damn whatchu talking about
Stackin' plenty paper never touched that vault
Doing sixty
Tryna get my paper right (Get my paper right)
So, my lady called my phone (My lady called my phone)
She said, Daddy you been gone for too long (Too long)
His viscous poly-paste breath comes out,
Their wall-paper world is shattered by his shout,
A boy in blue is busy banging out a headache
His viscous poly-paste breath comes out,
Their wall-paper world is shattered by his shout,
A boy in blue is busy banging out a headache
Wake your punk ass up for the
Two double oh five brother
Young Money, the future
Hot boy in the building
Rock hard, hard rock hard body
Got it in
more pop,
because he's dead and it's time for the paper chase
[Chorus]
(Mac Cris)
Now smoke a blunt wit'cha boy, commit Cream got that green
Now
addicted to money
Look at your boy
(Boy)
Got 50 thousand in this mouth
(Mouth)
Look at your boy
(Boy)
I'm fixin' to buy a way bigger house
I'm
It's 12:08 in the morning and i haven't ate since the morning
Putting in all of this work hoping ill be great by the morning
Looking for a sign
Closest ones to me want to see me in a box
Is it jealousy or am I cursed by the gods
My son's mother don't know when or where to start
All
I'ma see you in Hell (inhale)
Battle rap? Boy you wouldn't win a debate
The type of legacy I got
You don't get by mistake
Man don't let them amp you up
never changed, still the same
We fuck bitches, get paper, you fuck niggas on papers
We walk around with lasers, you probably own some tasers
Lame
Barbies or dollies,
I was outside jumpin' off walls or playin' foot ball,
Or getting chased by the local pitbull,
The odd character that every borough
.jpg/217px-Arena_Corinthians_Opening_(cropped-Pitbull).jpg "Pitbull")
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