Lyrics:
Ayy, hit the block and sell drugs (woo, woo)
That's exactly how it was
Take the Sprite and take the codeine (and mix it)
And I pour me up a cup
Get
spin me
And when this pandemic shit up, please keep your 6 feet distance, please
It's a lot of simple shit that I used to let get to me
But I had to jump
fear
Out here it's fresh water fuck your wifi
Letting that Golden Teacher reach my minds Eye
Down that Paradise Drive sideways in a Side-By
With my
throwing P's
While you stand with me
P-Town, charged up like batteries
Mo fuckers is So down
It's an understatement to gravity
Pour two shots for loss
throwing P's
While you stand with me
P-Town, charged up like batteries
Mo fuckers is So down
It's an understatement to gravity
Pour two shots for loss
throwing P's
While you stand with me
P-Town, charged up like batteries
Mo fuckers is So down
It's an understatement to gravity
Pour two shots for loss
bought my tick
Took a leap & I haven’t looked back since
Lot a dead weight cut off throw it in the pits
No purpose, you ain’t getting in the mix
I
to the money now we add it up
I'm in the spot and I'm doing my dance
Jump in and out I ain't holding no hands
She with the team, she got a man's
Keep
sit by the radio, hands on the dial tune
As you hear it, pump up the volume
Jump when you hear them speakers let it off (off, woo)
Mr. VA 'bout
niggas
Flow like dro, I pull then clip it or mix it with some moet then sip it
Then turn around and flip it, shit on your whole album wit a snippet
a thing for a brother like me
Uncle Sam want to buy another missile (yep)
Strip Mix-a-Lot straight down to the gristle (mm)
I made a few mil'
I die my spirit will jump inside machines
Runnin niggaz over like Christine (sorry)
I mix the green with the last piece of hashish, ass-burning
the mix
How you jump in the mix
Twelve coming better hide the whole
Brick
I been tryna focus on the money
Not none of dumb shit
Its a lot of shit
lotta shit
rock
Well, so far you've heard my voice but I brought two friends along
And the next on the mic is my man Hank
C'mon, Hank, sing that song
Check it
the Mix-a-Lot
Bitches put 'em on the glass while
I'm puttin' stickers on they ass
I rule everything around me like cash
On the rocks of reality, dreams get
Mix, mix, stop now move around
Mix, mix, stop now move around
Steppin' up to the mic.
Mic 1, mic 2.
Rollin' step out the bathroom stall we got
the parking lot, on 22's plus
It's a must I make all haters, eat my dust
Them jump-out boys, waiting trying to catch me slipping
I ain't tripping, grain
Tossing periods in front of false reps?
It's not the 187 when the 360 slept
You swallow the cake from the plate of elevate
Or you might get sparked by
though
But it's gon to be hard to breathe if I feel played
Watch him fade as the shells jump from the 12 gauge
Militant mind I grew up around soldiers
rock
Well, so far you've heard my voice but I brought two friends along
And the next on the mic is my man Hank
C'mon, Hank, sing that song
Check it
one headlight
I've been rollin' for two months
With them hoes on bright
He said your girl friend here is
Doing an awful lot of choking
It must have been
it's done, uh
I did good in my hood as a youngster
The Heavster was never a punkster, no sir
No ma'am, hot damn, me and Michael Jackson jammed
I
I'm gettin' paid by the pound and I got mad flow
Flip flop who's the bigger one, quick to figure one
two, three two one, ah!
Keep a pen and a pad
around with fire cuz your ass get lit
Why the act brad pitt don't be talkin out your neck or your wig get split yeah
Two by four to park it uh two by four
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