Lyrics:
Too high, can't come down
Losing my head, spinning round and round
Round and round round and round
Back to the hoes
Ridin' down 7-4th and Hoover
Could Man I Probably Would Flirt With All Ya'll
Yeah, Yeah Homie U Say She Yo Girlfriend
But When I Step Up To Her I'm Be Like Cousin
Believe Me Man, This
[Chorus: x4]
It's Bone and Biggie, Biggie [Repeat: x8]
Let's Ride [Repeat: x3]
Get High [Repeat: x3]
[Biggie, BizzyBone & KrayzieBone]
Armed
Malpractice'
[Redman]
(Red-man!) They done let me out
(Red-man!) They done called my name
(Red-man!) They done read the four chapters..
.. now I'm back,
the ice cream man
Bitch, don't you hear the music?
Hahaha, yeah, huh
Well, it's the Coca Cola man, bitch
Can't beat the feeling
Or the real thing,
[Ja rule (fabolous)]
(we trin' to kill these niggas)
Yo
(yea, uh huh, yea)
We in the door now
(yea)
Holla, rule nigga, with the f-a-b-o haha,
Yea
Irv Gotti
Yea
Murder Inc.
Uh, Yea, Uh
Run'em down nigga
Load the 4-4 up
I'm the reason the price of raw go up
Jump outta of the Lambo,
bout they diamond bezelled wrists
My ice this, my ice that
I bet I'll melt yo shit
Cause Shawn J come hotter than the Devil's dick
Couldn't beat me if I
four's
I think her name was kia
Ok
Pull up to yo bitch house
Hi nice to meet ya
I ain't just any ol body
You heard Aaliyah
Spots on her back
I know this
a bitch shit
Motherfuckers, blow your horns
Then smash sumthin, crash sumthin'
Yo, yo yo, from hunger, to hungry, to hungriest
Pack two cannons by
Tyson ready to bite somebody
Baby said she quit, but now she back on Molly
Designer on my body-ody-ody-ody
White lamb, Yo Gotti
the three-o-to-four pound
Hit a nigga dead in his wig - FUCK IT!!
Yo, too many bitch-ass-niggas think they got a lot
And I'ma dead these wannabe heads with
I'm spittin these flames, Spittin these flames
These niggas be lames, You niggas be lames
She jackin my name, She wanna be my main
Put gold on my
seen I bet u would fold
He runnIng and tellIng why he tryna troll
I get In my mood then ya homIe get rolled
He jackIn da opps beat em up wIt da pole
I'm
everything I'm Yo Gotti
So many choices I'm Bristol's E-40
(Damn) New edition G like the Power Rangers movie
cnd I'm getting' many P's you can call me Puff
Yo sex boi drop your fucking beat box oh
Bring that next level shit
Feel the beat
Feel the beat
Wad E in the muddy fucking house check it out
Motherfuckers, blow your horns
Then smash sumthin, crash sumthin
Yo, yo yo, from hunger, to hungry, to hungriest
Pack two cannons by the pancreas
Your whole
takes mathical fact
And you can't de-grate, y'all get played like a sax
Trumpet to trombone
Too shotty Young Gotti, millennium bone
If she raggedly,
sippin' DP
Regime be the team of the scream
Balls lean, hit the scene and I'm way too clean
On your radio, yo, yo
[Chorus]
I'm your radio (Turn me
the meter
3 stripes for life, I’m paid my Adidas
Fly senioritas, good time to meet us
4-20 after dark, down by seritas
Home of the Steelers, cat feelers
stackin my pockets daily
Live by 4 words
"Fuck You, Pay Me"
All the niggaz that doubted The East
Live LA SALA We Floodin them Streets
Need them 3-28s
gangsta shit
I say No Limit loud, cause we ain't scared of nobody
Organized by P or should I say, John Gotti
Real niggas, put ya guns up if ya feel me
But
family name
But it’s a damn shame what a nigga gotta go through to get spare change
Got an angel on one side devil on the other
So I carry this 4 five
and nothin' but
the truth, so help yo' black ass?
"You're goddamned right!"
why don't you tell everybody what the fuck you gotta say...
Fuck the police commin'
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