Lyrics:
later
You gotta let these haters
Jam on it, jam on it
I tell ‘em, tell ‘em jam on it!
Jam on it, jam on it j-j-j jam on it!
Mr 305, to Mr worldwide
Now break his legs, arms, neck (yea).
[Chorus]
(Soulja boy tell em)
(S.O.D. money gang entertainment)
(I present to you the show stoppas)
(When
boys and girls
Which one do you go to?
Which one do you go to
I'm packin' buddha by the pounds and pull my Phillies from knapsacks
Hey yo I didn't
I tell 'em move over
Big shit over here, boy
100 acres on my property, man I might hit a deer, boy
I got felonies that's older than y'all niggas
Intro
Rap by R.Kelly
(feat. R. Kelly, Fabolous)
[R. Kelly]
Y'all know what this is
so bob your heads, yeah
ladies it's your boyfriend
bullshit
Turn up your stereo hops
Insert the rhyme clip
Roll your windows up
Make sure it7s air tight
E.Q. the track exact
So shit sounds right
I rhyme
bitin' ass
Neck, ears, hands, legs, eatin' ass
Your pussy's too good, I need to crash
Your titties, let 'em out, free at last
Thank God almighty, they
Okay dip wait uh
Sit down
Snap ya fingers you the boss wait uh
Wear the crown
Soulja boy tell em yah wait uh
What's that sound
Hear the voices in
on
In the snap of my hands
We really riding, you just rapping it fam
You don't want a war
That 44 leave your boy by that corner store
I catch you sliding
Uh, my mind's filled with mine fields
The ashes fall, the wine spills
The world stops, drops and rolls
It's Judgment Day or a fire drill
Yea, I pour
crooks
Could tell we be fatal, ready to roll
Know we willing and able
Rollin' with Ruthless bitch betta check my label
Murda dem, never come again
where he stand, we live by law and we gon' lay it down
Tell me he want smoke, 187, that's that same shit
.357 send you to heaven, knock out your brain
to tell him is...PUMP YA BRAKES
Now if you're underage & you're actin' all grown
What you need to do is PUMP YA BRAKES
If you're offended by this record,
Come on girl
I've been waiting for somebody
To pick up my stroll, uh
Well don't waste time
Give me the sign
Tell me how you wanna roll
I
do
I roll another one and tell that
Bitch to get a clue
It's hard for me to name all
A the places I done flew
I did it all by reppin'
Taylor Gang
you're hot you're hot I said yeah
When you're hot you're hot and when you're not you're not
Put all the money in and let's roll 'em again when you're
G's)
Now, when you're rollin' through yo' motherfuckin' hood
Tell me what you see
(Some motherfuckin' G's)
Roamin' in my motherfuckin' hood
a rusty screwdriver, blaow (I'll fuckin')
I'll fuckin', I'll fuckin' hang you by your fuckin' dick
Off the fuckin twelve story building out this
Soulja Boy Tell 'Em
Baby, you know that I miss you, I wanna get with you tonight
But I cannot, baby girl, and that's the issue
Girl, you know
my lil' soulja there
Bitch, it's over, I thought I told you that
Ayy, you too messy, why you posting that?
I can really tell them boys to spin that
(Whassup?)
Tell 'em where you from!
Straight outta Compton, another crazy ass nigga
More punks I smoke, yo, my rep gets bigger
I'm a bad motherfucker,
a rusty screwdriver, blaow (I'll fuckin')
I'll fuckin', I'll fuckin' hang you by your fuckin' dick
Off the fuckin twelve story building out this
Tell 'em if they want it, they can come get that (Statik)
I swear I love my city, I just want less (Statik)
See me, they salute me, they ain't
To roll a fat joint and smoke that weed
But the tale goes on and years went by
Another drug came and the boy got high
Ever since that day, he just wasn't
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