Lyrics:
(okay)
To his album we ride we so mob (okay, yeah)
I throw lives and lowest to live
For my loaf of bread the people's player
I did what the culture
out with the verdict
So I'm clean as a whistle, drinking premium liquor
In between two Argentinian sisters
They countin' up for me until they
to be humble
When I do the breaststroke through an underground tunnel
And come up on the other side in a Jacuzzi
Being greeted by two naked models with
a few graves
I hit the club and pop a few Spades
I'm gettin' pussy like Uncle Luke in
His 2 Live Crew days
She can't suck this dick again
If she ain't
page from Bris
He told me he saw Sean and two chicks followed by four whips
Somewhere in the Florida sticks
It's a set up
Tell the crew to keep their
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
fucking limits
Shout out to Uncle Luke
Shout out my bitches too
We the 2 Live Crew
Two for me, two for you (woo)
Feed them bitches carrots
Fuck 'em
wanna go out, can you tell me where the spot is)
Well we're partying all night, and everybody is having a good time
(I wanna get nice, I wanna get live
By the time you make one I'll be on ten
Hit the studio nigga, and do it again
To the beat y'all, and it don't stop
It goes on cause I don't stop
the Lakers
I'm cool with eses who got AK's in cases
Dedicated to all of those with big egos
Never fakin', we get the dough and live legal
Haters hate
(KE on the track)
No Ceilings
Okay
I got this chrome on this Bugatti
I'm strong in this Bugatti
2 V8's ain't no such thing as driving calm in
A million miles a minute, the second I'm in it yeah I be pacing
Bitch I'm back again
Been here since way back when, now let that shit begin
This album 2 but
verse a gift, as you smoke like a chimney
My album comin' November, that's twenty years of memory
And that's assumin' I'ma live that long
If I don't,
that live by the
Code of blood honor my Flipmode niggas, ha
Spliff bring you that shit to another extreme
Here to hit you motherfuckers with
A strike
Southernplayalistic ATLiens in your sock drawer
No lockjaw, we got that raw shit and all the trimmings
Even though we got two albums, this one feel like the beginning
the weakest nigga out the crew
I probably make more money off yo' album, than you
You see the respect I get every time I come through
Check your own videos,
(Pimp): That nigga wasts the honey
(Pimp): All we want is the money
(Pimp 2): I keep em' bro. Wake up one morning, and, with some money
Southernplayalistic ATLiens in your sock drawer
No lockjaw, we got that raw shit and all the trimmings
Even though we got two albums, this one feel like the beginning
test tube baby}
Check one two, check one two
De La Soul, is now back on the map
Long Island, is now back on the map
Good rap music, is now back
the weakest nigga out the crew
I probably make more money off yo' album, than you
You see the respect I get every time I come through
Check your own videos,
get seen
I'm a Dirty Bird now but I keep shit clean
I rip meanface niggas one by one
Or two by two, I'll take 'em however they come
Instead
too soft
That nigga's dead on a ki of heroin
They found his head on the couch with his dick in his mouth
I put the hit out
Yo, the smoothest killer
never gave a fuck about a stupid ass hoodrat
[Chorus]
Bitches ridin' on my bit
Niggas hit me up and shit
But I'm from the Eastside
Where
That I was not up to par, when I followed my heart
Granted, my heart was tainted by my mind, I kept on sayin'
Where's the hits? You ain't got none
You
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