Lyrics:
I die in 1999 smoking phillies
Bizzy the kid was bustin' in the ceilin' in my big claim
Kickin' on something and dig this
Got to feel it catch
better take a pill
That dirty bass, in your face
Chain so fat you can't see my waist
G6 money still in the safe
And if you look like Cassie, I'ma break
clap
Soul clap
Yeah, woii
Me seh me wan see everybody ah move
Dancehall enuh
Dollarman coming at ya
We just wan big up Cutee B, Bob Sinclar
It's
quick, clean transit. Miser tuck the big screen panic near the business card. Ankle out of wack. Painkiller debacle. Scrappy navigate the yellow corn
on top,
All the money in the world,
If I can't blow it all on you.
So, send the cars back,
Put the house on the market,
And my big dreams too.
Because
wasn't big enough
You wanted beef wit the thugs, but the club wasn't big enough
All the G's to the V.I.P.
Hoes follow along right after me
It's - SNS in
pop big shit, I do it big (pop)
Yep, I be poppin' shit, got niggas dead and in the pen' (yeah)
Yep, I used to ride a Huffy now I got all kind of shit
The player of the year is in it to win it
Cause I'm gonna take the crown
In just about a minute
Them other niggas they ain't on it
Like I'm on it
more aware
of all the madness and the civil unrest that's out here
I doubt there, is anyplace more complex
You can get lost in the sauce, New York'll
Flyin’ into town in a jet plane
Sittin’ in the front drinkin’ pink champagne
Oh, boy. Oh, boy
Drivin’ into town in a big car
Chauffer in the front,
Fuck these hoes, they average (uh)
Ay, I got the Glock in the bag
Ay, I got the Glock with the du-du-du (uh!)
I got the beam, it's attached, uh
Aim
all these big racks, man this shit insane
Yeah
This shit insane
Big 14, bitch, know the fuckin' name
Gang in this bitch, whippin' shit like a slave
back my soul, stole by one of these foes like Mack Moes
Puttin holes in my old clothes, even stole my pose
Got my sky, fly, who that guy?
Slip 'em my
Good evening
Town folk
Country folk
City folk
Rednecks colors and Spaniards
And anything in between
[Chorus]
Brand new kicks to match my new
He was born in Big Beaver by the borderline
He started playing hockey by the time he was nine
His dad took the hose and froze the back yard
a sucka, metal in the duffel
I'm all about my chips, I gets my ruffles
Joey I got ya, these boyz bluffing
I'm doin' the Hulk Hogan but they ain't sayin'
a youngsta, peepin from the other corner
seeing sets in the air with big arms now I want to
be like them, and act like them
and stack like them and try to mack
buckboard and rode to his ranch
Out in the horse corral, standing alone
Is an old Cavallo, a strawberry Roan
Little pin ears that touch at the tip
A big
ink in my mouth
With that motherfuckin' pen
And I'ma drink that nut
Like it's motherfuckin' gin
I'm a big girl, I don't run from that dick
Fat pussy,
everything means nothin'
If I ain't got you
Little Mix! Remix!
(One hand in the air for the big city)
Street lights, big dreams, all looking pretty
(No place
you I could take your bitch
You ain't listen
I heard the friend zone feel
Like you in Bane prison fly little joint
Her weave just hang different
Bought
bank (Bentley)
Smoke a bitch like a motherfuckin' dank
Yeah
Got a bitch in the room tryna wait, yeah
Got a big-ass house with a gate, yeah
Got a coupe
Ah, yeah ah, yeah
Pull up in that whip and make it skrrt
Hop inside the leather, soft as fur
Rollin' up that sticky, got the syrup (yeah)
Go 'head
this is my theme song
I got that beam on
Codeine in my styrofoam, all black mink coat
Big bank on my ringtone
Got a whole lot of rings on
Take ya hoe
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