Lyrics:
nuts, then I (yeah)
Check my ball hair (what?), make sure it's all there (yeah)
Then call the pallbearer (yeah)
It's Music to Be Murdered By again, why
the tales that I tell so well
(Short Dog)
I'm thinkin' way back, it's been a long, long time
In 1980 I wrote my first rhyme
I like to spit a lot of game
But
repping me y'all
I get a lot of dirty money so respect me or fall
But I'm saving all my checks, I'm investing 'em all
They say, what goes up is gon'
cause I'm looking in the bank set
Yeah
The top is where I'm going, but my booty got a lot of mentions
Military bounded, private Ryan, need
check the fashion
GANG
GANG
Tryna get that money all the time
Put my board down but I'm still on The grind
Bands on his head there's a lot on my Mind
to spit a lot of game
But back then, I was just saying my name
I had a record player, on my stereo
Got down on my knees with my radio
From Oakland
aim
These sucka wannabe's
Nigga please - you're green
I'll bend hoes on the downlow - banks obscene
want to chill with these niggas, bet you wish
This for my man yo, word up
"I got a 187 on the corner of Farmers boulevard in Linden."
"Uh, drug related?"
"The usual."
I don't mean this in
I used to have a lot of bitches
Straight down for me
Doin' anything I said, even hoe on the street
But I'm a dog and I dog my broads
Guerrilla
out his front seat, his ass come back
Don't check his ass, baby, don't come back
Natural born shooter, I'm the club party pooper
Yes, sir, I
I'm thinking bout' a raf
I'm taking racks out the bank, racks out the bank (Uh)
I want a pretty little house sitting by a lake
Keep the racks in
through my hood
that is what i see when I'm rollin through my hood
when I'm rollin through my hood
I see alot of factors, alot of actors
but since
but I still got a gangsta bop
I love her wit some back, sir mix a lot
Gotta change when you losing like the Knicks a lot
I'm off putting soft in
on the floor
I been running into checks I need me more
Black Nike sweats, mix it with Dior
In the streets, girl wearing all couture
Through the Prada shades,
from the nawf yeah it's a bang sir
Fuck the industry can you hear my jewelry
I can do it by my own two big chains on me
Glock 40 in this bitch shorty
Ride it
Cut the check nigga pile a lot of money
I told them I wanted to live and be by myself I shouldn't be bothered
I couldn't believe it my father was
city on the map
I can't go to nobody city without no strap
When the bank close they got my money
I make 'em open it back
Alot of plug mad at my
Prices
that wasn't my fault oou yea
I want more Os in my bank and more hunnids inside of my vault oou yea
Like out of control, like out of control, like out
rappers like they Suge
Got M's in the bank, bitch, I feel life is good
They makin' payment, held that by my foot
Been patiently waitin', wish a nigga
Damn that boy snapping yes sir
Ba ba boogie on the mix
Yea
Just listen
Check it
Living life where you die if u move wrong
Driving 2 tone but my
and freaky then drink some more
P.O. trippin bout a nigga takin drug inhancements
Askin me if I been smokin while my ? readin Branson
I say no sir not by
up
I'm giving my all and you’re turning ya back and I'm losing my cool and I'm blowing some steam like arghhh
Hook
No way, No Sir, Uhhh Uhhh Ya’ll
an instant plane
Fuck yall, niggas couch mane
Actin' ashamed, don’t be a slave
Put yo check on the table
By the end of the days paid hey hey
Play fair, I don’t
that the banks trust
Crafted a persona that has never been seen
The qualities in the mix p's and g's are in my genes
Going for new heights check the list
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