Lyrics:
If you're always stealing goodies from a big department store,
You need an analyst, a psychoanalyst
If your pocket's full of little things you
to bitches feedin' me grapes
Peep my mind state, Big Poppa flow is lethal
That weed wanna make my ass wanna kill four people
Fuck the game, gimme the chain
Bank statement look like we made it
Vacations after vacations
They say all it take is patience
Thank God we got what we done prayed for
Thats a big
Bambaata & the Zulu Nation
Fab 5 Freddie keeping it real
DJ Flash on the Wheels of Steel!
FUNK!
Sly Stone’s Funk got you to move
Funkadelic were under
women's desire
I'll probably die cold and alone
But just give me a chance
Cause deep down inside
I swear I got a big heart of gold
I'm a monoganous man
No
[Treach] No Limit
[Myst.] Naughty!
[Treach] Da bomb Ill
[Myst.] Mystikal!
[Treach] IllTown
[Myst.] Da Big Eazy.. (oh shit) HAH!
Chorus:
whose got the keys to my Jeep?
My doors on might fly up out the seats
Hoodied up, wrong hood, I'm in these streets
Bad bitch, big tit's, she wants my meat
[Notorious B.I.G.]
What? Uhh, what?
Uhh, uhh, what? Uhh
Ninety-seven ?caddi lawn?
What, what, uhh
I creep deep with killers without million dollar figures
First there was the
Smoking underground single
"Won't Catch Me Runnin'" b
W "Remain Anonymous
" then there was the regionally notorious
Radio drop
niggas you shot, how much money you got (how much?)
And do you really post up on the block?
Not ordinary, it may vary
I get my means by any means
The (?) crept into my house, fuck silence
Now most punks want to run for the stun gun
Fuck a stun gun, I got the big one
Forty-four mag, automatic,
her
To for- (yo)
In she came with the same type game
The type of girl giving out the fake cell phone and name
Big fame (big fame), she like cats
this
I wreck shops and got props from New York to Cali
I'm Big Willie, you silly Sally from the valley
Ain't nuttin' changed, wait a minute, I'm
morning
Every part of me like a bad machine
Breaking everything all the time
Every part of me has been wired to repeat
I've got a bad desire by design
There is a big click clack machine
Whose engines don't pump gasoline
It's a poundin' crazy arm that works all day
It's run by all the people who
Have
the bed I got it goin' on
I'm Sir Too $hort, couldn't be no punk
I try to get funky like female funk
So when you see me comin' or see me goin'
I keep my
Life in the projects
Where it's hard to get by
But you got it 'cause your spot's gettin' hotter
Life in the projects
Where grass is cheese and cheese is
try to come and stop it I turn it 400 degrees
Just me and my money machine
Bitch I got money to clean
If you talking digits I'm acquitted it ain't
the stink, revolutions in my brain!
On one command we wake up, we're a mob
Followin' the madmen we bleed by our eyes,
And one shout gives us a dream
A big
so you know my ass high
Funk made by my nigga named X,
Bitches with the fat lips and fat ass, I want to sex
Check this, nuts to your chin now fin,
Remember this field well
This is where we excel
We're foot soldiers on our shoulders
Empires rose and cities fell
We got big technology
But
Now these doors don't open til after dark
And it ain't til twelve 'til the party really starts
(Yo me and my crew had to be in by ten
Right
and count to three
Don't hide don't be unseen
Don't be just a cog in the machine
Just another piece in their big fat broken machine
Manufactured everything
Its me, the brand new intelligent black woman why-O-why-O
Which is Yo-Yo, but I'm not to be played
Like I was made by matell
But this Yo-Yo is made
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