Lyrics:
26 degrees he got cold off this heat check . Me and Johnny got the city poppin' nigga we next . I'm neck high in the game, you barely tryna
get your
Baby so damn fine
Pop off like a cherry
Take a sip of wine
She said
Boy you better treat me right
She said
I have some time for you by my side
the passenger
Kush in my lungs lick your lips we be flirting
Toes by your kneecaps looks baby no swerving
You say I'm flyer than Julius Erving
Can't fall in love
you shoot better cuff
'Bout to take a ride, lil mama so buckle up
Only got love for mama, no bitch I can trust
You fell for the set up, got caught in
Perfect, won't judge yours, baby
Won't judge yours
'Cause I don't wanna love no more
I'm in love with the styrofoam
Heaven knows I'm down, only God knows
You
the M-O-be and Mystikal
Chorus x2
[Mystikal]
Muthafucker better hump in your back
Clock the glock, hold up the buzz, tear up the club
Rappers wanna stop me pop me drop me
Lock me lock me top me
But they really up to no
Good - what's your plan?!
Critics wanna hit me get me clip me
Rip me
the jewels before your purse-totin-
Ass become the first smokin
Pop shit on my records, you lock stiff in my presence
My Squad gets respected for cockin
Where did you go?
Heart turn to stone
You're not around it's like I'm haunted by your ghost
I hope you know
Til' the day I die
I'll love you like my own
I
There he go right there, man
Hit that Yu
Two clips with the m
Gotta spin around two
If I pop
Better drop
Or your shoes burning
To fly for your eyes
you ballin, look you wanna ball
Word on the streets, niggaz ready to put you on the wall
You just a leg shooter, you aim your gun low
I shoot my tek
I gotta see you pop your shit again
Zaza and cigars in the wind again
Blood pressure can't kill Superman
Damn, believe in them still, we been in
,your bitches, they not it
If she ever try me
They fire right on side me pop it like I'm Molly
I'm knowing my worth and I know I influence so you better
run up a million
Niggas falling in love, getting caught in they feelings
Pull up your pants nigga get you a grip
Come get hit with this 40
Rap
her, gettin' laid tonight
Swisha rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there's got to be a better way!
And you done rule so, it better dem cool
Well pop style hotness, mi child
You own the man, a gyal wait fi awhile
Fi get fi your body, man will swim river
the way you lose
I got your bitch wet we not by the pool
They say the block hot you better keep it cool
They say streets dangerous you better keep a tool
in the projects
East side and the west side
Indeed I spit it with finesse right
L's for love me, Y for "why front?"
T's for truth
E's the exotic flavor
on the track
The South is in the house, now what can fuck wit that?
And who can fuck wit us? Better bring your mic game
Mike Jordon, Mike Tyson, Big Mike
1st pt. Too Short, 2nd pt. by female]
I love gettin my head blown
I love gettin my nuts rubbed
I love gettin my dick licked
I love gettin my nuts
There's a pop idol at the top of the charts
And when her records being cut she's on the beach in St. Barts
While a session singer who didn't have the face
or bound to pop a mission
So if you got dogs, nigga, let 'em go
If a mob fuckin' truck right, let 'em know
We got the same guns that you got, but better
Yeah, what the hell you know about the Rydas? Black
trucks and hoods bitch!! Shit, you better check that,
hell...
Yo! I'm a killa
Cap peela
Other
Tupac
Running to the Ice cream truck shoes with no socks
Or to the corner store for Fay go pop Them was the days
Be in by the street lights
Your mama
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