Lyrics:
Yo nephew, give me some of that No Limit shit
Yeah,
We got my nigga Fiend in the house
C-Murder in this motherfucker
Mystikal all up in this
for some ass
Oh, Well hold up
Listen partna
I ain't no cheap thrill
'Cause Miss Badu is always comin' for real
And you know the deal
Every time
all of y'all, then ball
Then tell Da Brat to keep her mouth closed
Fuck around and get tossed up by the fuckin' Outlawz
Before I leave, make sure
now I'm settin up, the ultimate drive-by
And when you hear this shit
It make the world say "DAMN!", "I wanna kill Sam"
"Do the niggas run this
Yeah, this album is dedicated
To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'
To all the people that lived above the buildings that I
Poppin' down P, I ain't drinking cheap shit
It's G and Too $hort, every bar, gotta bleep it
Album 25 it's the pimp tape
Asked the OG, how long did this
rapper about to blow
But his album came, and it was not good
I think it went lead or double copper-wood
So the silly little fans, they were misled
By
Whose built by New Yitty, whose milked like two titties
And I ain't even got to say my name
I got this duck wit her legs up like, "say my name, trick
even up my sleeve
A million albums sold and it?s hard to believe
Well it?s true homeboy, it?s not a lie
I used to sell tapes on sunnyside
I used
Yeah, this album is dedicated
To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'
To all the people that lived above the buildings that I
with the feds
I'm back at the bridge
You niggas is sipping on 40's
I'm topping the keg you know how we play
Like G's coming up off the
Two in their ass
on
Yo, we can go to war with the enemy
All we need is A.K.s and Hennessy
This ain't back in the days of Tennessee
Pull the trigger and release
Ladies and gentlemen.. Fre-fre-fre-fresh!
T.I.P., aye!
I know a lot of y'all niggaz out there,
Man who ain't up on this down south shit
While they coked up and weeded
Open fire
Now them niggas bleedin'
See me in flesh
And test
And get your chest blown
Straight out the west, don't get
Smoke somethin', bitch
U-G-K, hold up, talkin' bout, uh
Pimp C P.A. Trill nigga
Polo fuck that Hilfiger
Made myself a ghetto star
On the slab,
ain't never shead a tear
In yo hood bumpin' ridin' with a twelve case of beer
Ain't no nigga make no moves
Get you scared, shook your fear
Y2K hit
do cheap tricks to get chicks
I just stand by my word (word) full attention
And still get attention
And still it should be noted
They all
frivilous
Thoughts, thug for the Bone, up puttin' this independent stardom.
Seven relentless evil intentions, nobody knows 'em, I'm even a henchman,
Homicidal, vinyl section, where they always found me
By the motion picture soundtrack with Richard Roundtree on the album sleeve
That's my era shit
Musical
to juggle
Another day, another struggle
I know how it feel to wake up fucked up
Pockets broke as hell, another rock to sell
People look at you like
I made the change from a common thief
To up close and personal with Robin Leach (yeah)
And I'm far from cheap
I smoke skunk with my peeps all day
Smoke somethin', bitch
U-G-K, hold up, talkin' bout, uh
Pimp C P.A. Trill nigga
Polo fuck that Hilfiger
Made myself a ghetto star
On the slab,
While they coked up and weeded
Open fire
Now them niggas bleedin'
See me in flesh
And test
And get your chest blown
Straight out the west, don't get
the club with a K
In the back of the trap where I lay
In the kitchen on pots how I bake
Hold up wait
S-Rank
Hold up wait
S-Rank
And my time don't come cheap
Discuss these by k up album cheap trick Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In