Lyrics:
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Let's work... Come on
Def Jam! Mr. Meth, Missy, Bad Boy
Hitmen baby, let's work, come on
Let's work, come on, yeah
Uh, let's work... Aiyo
Texas
Get up into my self made booth
With my self made hooks
Blend it all together in the kitchen
Self made cooks
No by the book
My bitch so bad you
that cold be doggin the mic
You may be good but there's no one better
We rock you so cold, you need a cashmere sweater
Fight dirty in the pit when
bitch from Sacramento didn't suck my dick 'til we hit Saks Fifth
But after that, she went 730
I knew she would from a little birdy
Head so good, got me
jury be VVSes
Kated by DTSes
Like Khalid shit we the best and
I tell em hoes I don't wanna talk
Just leave a message
Automatic stash boxes so they
Can
Sippin magnum now got me feelin alright (Alright, yeah)
Tryna party all night, yeah yeah
Stay with me darlin, stick by me (By me)
Not a bad boy I'll treat
or need to be in show biz
If im tryna pull a chick as bad as Jennifer Lopez
See I don't give a fuck lemme share some clarity
I say what I wanna say like
you finna go
My paper's so long and bitch I'm finna blow
Big wads in my hands at all times
Bombay Gin dance and hoes is all mine
Please don't lose your
Street, off white Lexus
Drivin' so slow, but B.K. Is from Texas
Me, I'm out that Bed-Stuy, home of that boy Biggie
Now I live on billboard and I brought
5 bad boys wit da power to rock you
Blowin ya mind so ya gotta get into
5 5 what you waiting
4 4 if you want to
3 3
2 2
1 let's do it
the babes
Third, you caught me with your date, that was no mistake
Good things come to those who wait
So if you waitin' on them 'Tics, huh, they goin' be
upbringings
We doing bad on our ass
Nigga f**k singing
How you gonna tell me to keep it positive
And growing up I didn't have a pop to give
So these mother
Geto Boys
(G.B.)'98
We gonna set this shit straight, belive that
Don't you wish sometimes you can be free
Free from incarceration
Free from
he get suspicious, bring up his old mistress
I ain't dry-snitchin, but why should you be feelin bad
Cause I be killin that, huh?
[Chorus]
Can I
broke poverty is still in my head hurtin
'cause i know this nigga gotta be killed
My good side tellin me let'em slide 'cause he ain't worth bout my bad
soul or a bad egg?
And is our future wounded by philosophies our daddy had?
And everybody wants to see
What the mirror cannot see
Or is it
the sea I'm in New England
See the red up on the trees I'm in New-New
Fresh up out them colonies what a good feelin
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god
Oh my
off crack, that lil' nigga cook a half a pot
Remix the bowls, I'm feelin' like some SirMixALot
These niggas broke, my pockets havin', what they not
That
at night by the fireplace
A couple glasses of champagne and freak was written on your face
Said you were bored, you wanted something new
So I went
(Wanted them bitches so bad)
Double straps (Man, I swear to God)
Ayy, ayy
If a nigga try to rob you, just go in your pocket (Give it to him)
'Cause that
the real A to take back over the game, it's that time
Shawty poppin' ass fat, so I'm feelin' like she worth it
This cash I'm finna be servin', feelin' like
First one
Second one
Third one
Yeah yeah oh
I'll be okay if I get one
Remix!
Ray J, what it look like baby?
This yo boy Fabolouso
Got Clue
caught a case, second you caught the babes
Third, you caught me with your date, that was no mistake
Good things come to those who wait
So if you waitin'
Good or bad I'm here for ya, that's what you call family
The world going crazy, it's easy lose to your sanity
Looking for a way out, see you beefing
.jpg/220px-Feelin's_(Teddy_Edwards_album).jpg "Feelin's")
_(cropped).jpg/231px-210120-D-WD757-1975_(50860511978)_(cropped).jpg "Jennifer Lopez"){kind=spacer}
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