Lyrics:
We ain't
Have to pay a toll
Painting my masterpiece
Waiting to master peace
Waiting on that release
Before the end of my time
(Yes sir, yes sir, yes
to talkin' shop and I said
Now did you come by the name on your truck Giddyup go
Well he said I got it from my pop
Dad used to drive a truck that's what
lot of sh-
Poppin' that thing that she be on the (ha)
Gold in my mouth and got gold on my wrist (yeah)
Ho, you gon' shine if I give you a kiss
She
gonna take the shit
No more, I'll make it happen bit by bit
So I, rang my bank on the phone
They say, I got a bring proof along
लो जला पताके, सपनो
can go and put your hand on
I'm just cooking up some flavor then I mix it like I'm Alan
A bit of strength and a little bit of core
Cah they had my
the simple and quadratical
About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse
With many
and quadratical
About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse
I'm very good at integral
knew us
You could have crews wit shoes and can't step to us
Some kitty purr I call em sir too
Any trick that diss gets a curfew
I put my projects for
Living by the peach trees, didn't stay for long
Moved across the nation, serving up a cause
Have a lot of patience with everything I lost
Have a lot
made
Into brown gravy for supper Sunday
They got 50 pound bags of chicken nuggets
They got yummy yogurt by the bucket.
Shelves and shelves
(and stop worrying, dear)
By now! Now, now (more hot pies!)
Will you wait there cooly (you'll come back when it comes)
'Cause my customers truly are
got back
Sir mix a lot old shit
Let me introduce myself
If u do not know Fix
Money by any means my squad Hoe
Muddy Kup Gang what I be on Tho
Baby
Put it on ice
But sir that's my heart
Well this is a surgery
You better lighten up
Sir, light is more like tuna on a gluten free cracker
That's
got back
Sir mix a lot old shit
Let me introduce myself
If u do not know Fix
Money by any means my squad Hoe
Muddy Kup Gang what I be on Tho
Baby
Deliverin' hot shit like Pizza Hut for them hardcore thugs
Niggaz who pimp bitches and hit the highway with them drugs
Feel my flow, mix it in witcha chronic
words and music by Pete Seeger
My grandma she can make a soup
With a little a this n that
She can feed the whole sloop group
With a little a this n
with hard rocks (yeah).
From napalms to Uzi's I made G's (say what?),
them build up enough Luther by keys.
No gang affiliation, yo I stood on my own
Ol' mackin-ass Mix is back
I'm slangin' that game on 28 tracks
Yep yep, pack 'em in a Benz
Take 'em to my house, straight let 'em all in
Call
cyy
Superior on the mix
Nelly pon this one yeah!
Jorshie on the beat
I've got a lot on my mind
Can't get you off my mind
My feelings
Sir I
Don't push me, because I'm close to the edge
Livin on this thin line, I know the ledge
Allegience I pledge strictly to my comittee
Way above
Hip Hop hooray, hey, ho
You drew a picture of my morning
But you couldn't make my day (Hey!)
I'm rockin' and you're yawning
But you never look
a lot of games
But with you it's not the same.
For you, I'm'ma ride.
I want you by my side,
I feel like them ghetto boys. (She playin with my mind)
I'm'ma
pine
And I only bring a little good for the trip,
Just in case we get blurred by five 0
'Sir you look high'
I know, but I prefer my eyes low
sir, yes sir, yes sir
They know that I'm the main topic, you talkin' that nonsense, then throw it away
I saw that foreign ass girl in the parking lot
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