Lyrics:
I hit my rody he got to fuck too And put your middle fingers up and scream Haters, niggas mad at the paper Big crib, 10 car, 20 acres 20 chains,
for? This ain't a fuckin' sing-along So, girl, what you singin' for? It's 'cause we blowing like a C4 Got my whole crew blowing like a C4 Twenty
I'ma trip to Japan and buy some brand new shit Nine hundred to a grand, get you twenty eight grams If you talking 'bout bricks, I'm the interstate man
these broads won't give me my props Twenty-five on the bag, I be stunting on they ass And they mad cause the bitch won't stop Got your boyfriend
kinfolk, call it what I'm living like the high life Only if he knew what I had to do to keep my mind right I tell you I got 20/20 hindsight See it in
with a hypnotizing eye. I go at six am, quiet as a hymn. Gonna catch old Jim with the yellow-backed fly. Twenty inches long, measured with a stick.
for your paint job Catch a case and daddy let you know you can't call Coppin' 20 ki's gotta be finicky I got a tendency to send 'em up to Tennessee
codeine pourin' up Smokin' on some dope, always on a float Twenty years in niggas call me the G.O.A.T Money addin', up you haters going broke (broke)
blistered and burnt, can't hide my disgrace. Twenty-seven, everyone was nice. Gotta see 'em make 'em pay the price. See their bodies out on the ice. Take my
a hundred-and-twenty-first proof Fool usea deuce-deuce of some genuine, draft I'm genuine, like Vinny's whinin' all about cash Cash, cash, so indeed I got the weed
he'd done blowed the profits all to hell 'Cause he'd run through a 10 and he'd run through a 20 And he'd run through a 100 just as fast as it could
Would look down on me And frown! I could say that I hate you if I try, But I've got to say that I love you, 'Cause it's February the twenty second
legends in the books with the ones who made it Highly celebrated, everything was work related Current top 40 got the Wu deep in all their business 20
was covered in blood And she was cryin', her and me we headed south On highway twenty nine In a little desert motel, the air it was hot and clean
Leave a nigga on the flo' Truly I don't buck with you, nigga Let my tooly talk talk to you, nigga Bitch man is an itch to a rich man, whoa 20
Would look down on me And frown! I could say that I hate you if I try, But I've got to say that I love you, 'Cause it's February the twenty second
mule laid down an died You know I sent my baby You know, a brand new twenty dollar bill You know I sent my baby You know a brand new twenty dollar
her twenty, Millie said that's a lot You shouldn't give me nothin', he's already half shot Drinkin' white lightning started all the fightin' Wam,
doggs for life It's a trip how we Crip Suppose the enemies still With both sides ride causing plenty of tears Insane's and twenties both from
and high boots with an embroidered star 'Cause today he's forty years old, going on twenty But don't look for the gray in his hair 'Cause he ain't got any
on the village green when I was seventeen When I was twenty-one, it was a very good year It was a very good year for city girls who lived up the stairs With
every song I ever sing Summer, Winter, Autumn and Spring And were there more than twenty four hours a day They'd be spent in sweet content dreaming
in store Spite of all my Sunday learnin' toward the bad I kept on turnin' Till mama couldn't hold me anymore And I turned twenty one in prison doing
twenty-two slug to your head Travel all the way down to your leg [Chorus] Ayo it's hell on earth, whose next or gonna be first The projects is front
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