Lyrics:
What that nigga want, God?
Word up, look out for the cops (Wu-Tang five-finger shit)
(Cash rules) word up, two for fives over here, baby
Word up,
bout to faint
So baby
Poh me anutha
Poh me anutha
Poh me anutha drank (Do It) [x2]
I wanna couple of dem para-dises
Gimme two of dem sum
over her H.E.A…girl I'll bring the D
Man
You shoulda seen 'em when a nigga I went Ivy
Was blinded by the hoes Stevie had to guide me, but
You ever think
What that nigga want, God?
Word up, look out for the cops (Wu-Tang five-finger shit)
(Cash rules) word up, two for fives over here, baby
Word up,
it down? Oh, yeah
Will these bitches really be around when I'm down?
That's what I wonder
I done had my heart broke down
Now you tryna start goin'
hard drugs or beat my wife
But the paparazzi still wanna start shit
I don't answer their questions, I leave 'em in the dark, bitch
Then I walk through
on cash, say cheers
But don't sweat it, leave the sweatin' to the beer
And come on down, swing on by
Bring whatever's been on your mind
Locals on tap
You find out I'm crazy
Would you still believe me
Would you leave me baby
If the sky was falling, who would you be callin' now (now now now)
Start by
livin'
Spit all over ya chin
Weezy be on some pimp shit
I see 'em, peep 'em, meet 'em, beep 'em
Later on if she ride
G 'em, freak 'em, by the weekend she
all over ya chin
Weezy be on some pimp shit
I see 'em, peep 'em, meet 'em, beep 'em
Later on if she ride
G 'em, freak 'em, by the weekend she be
down
Through it all
Drifting by
I’m tryna make you wifey
Better yet drop the y
(Wife)
So baby is you down
You tryna roll with me
Got it out the mud
Now
and strike fear in his sight
Round two comes down a thunderbolt from Zuess
And your head Starts spinnin’ like Beetlejuice
That’s not even deuce or a prop
Mary Alice had a baby and he looked just like I did
We got married on a Monday and I been working ever since
Every week down at the Ford plant but
special ed
My brudda Zoe, gun em down, he gon' split a nigga wig
Serving out them packs, yo bitch on my sack
I got a sack of cash, she just wanna bag
My
in the way, nigga
FN by me for these fake niggas
I blow a nigga ass down today, nigga
It's a homi' on the way, nigga
Pistols get to bussing at your
the ghetto
Ain't afraid to let it show baby, go on let them know
You out the ghetto, better let 'em know
You from the ghetto, better let 'em know
Girl you
the dooch powder
Summer's Eve, I drop degrees chill
Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill
Stay fly till you air sick, now that's ill
Two choices,
ya role, by the way tuck ya gold
And you and your mic can ease on down the road
Assholes are like opinions, everybody got to have one
Shootin' in
five a fuck what you do
(B-b-b-beats by Yamaica Productions, baby)
Focus on the money, trappin'
Gettin' hunnids let ‘em know that we focus
On the money,
panoramic (skrt)
Count the bundles 'til my hand start crampin' (cramp)
I come with the drip I need a napkin (hey)
I'm a maniac go crazy for the cash
laid you out
Niggas be actin' all different
When they dogs come around
Watch 'em act like bitches
When Outlawz draw down
They all clown, better
at the store
Live like i’m living my last
My mood really change when i’m counting the cash
Remember who there when you down on yo ass
Stay down till you blow
Nigga, I've been rappin' like six years (what?)
I seen ten niggas get killed
What about me turnin' down them deals? (Huh)
Now you pissed off 'cause I
start 'em off little and give them a bottle
And a pen and a pad to hit the label, kick it, n-
N- roll with Bone up into the thug spot
To the dome
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