Lyrics:
a down sister
Boy, I tell you, I miss her
A-yes, yes y'all, and you don't stop
To the beat, y'all, and you don't stop
A-yes, yes y'all, and you don't
young ladies just drop their drawers
and when they drop em, I don't kick em, check it
Like the Fat Boys said, I "Brrrrrrrr, STICK EM!"
From that
Nobody gonna take my head
I gonna beat my..., yeah, yeah
Ooh, I'm in heaven again
I got everything
Like an open road
All my friends and everything
Yo blud don't get rude
Don't try take me for no boy
Yo blud don't get rude
Don't try take me for no boy
Ey blud don't get rude
Don't try take me for
old (Let's go)
By then cd's will be sold (Straight up, sheesh boy)
Rhymin' gonna get more cold
Music finna' make more gold (Yeah, yeah)
Two songs in one
I'm above it
Your uncle drunk with the music of a generation
A crown I begun with (uh, uh)
Group no name ain't nothing to fuck with
I turn the tide like
Diddy]
Well it seems like our bad boys have theirselves in a bit of a jam
Seems like Bristal got his back up against the wall
Well let's see how Rob be
double W Sknny is coming to trouble you
Everyday na so so story
E be like na so e suppose to be
Them say this boy na worry worry worry worry
Them say
wings with soy
I'm annoyed
By you niggas boy
Act fake and play coy
She so bad
Flaca just like Coi
Flock right to your boy
Look
She talking to you but
Get your ass off the wall with your two left feet
It's real easy, just follow the beat
Don't let that fine girl pass you by
Look real close 'cause
getting hot
Don't you stop the music boy, cause I like this beat
If you wanna see me dance, put it on repeat
CHORUS:
My body’s burning like a flame, I’m
I see police
The last thing I need is being sweated by the beats
Trying to throw me in the hole and take away my beats
Me hear nothing but
finna put the gun down
Beat that nigga with my fists
Scammed a Crip nigga, he look like Lilo
No Stitch yeah and I be with my
Dogs and I'm not talkin'
Red laces big booted like I’m Iraq bound
That frown will get you ate by
My cannibal from Sac Town
So relax pal, pat down, gat down, bat down
Blackout
shows peep the recital
(Skills) Now, you feel it when we drop those
Hot beats stop phoes killin shit we got those
(Skills) It's, the music that
Ya’ll some cat toy rappers getting whooped by the pussy
I beat the box like the fat boys before I roll up the cushy
It’s Mykel Hawk I’m on my grown man
Ya’ll some cat toy rappers getting whooped by the pussy
I beat the box like the fat boys before I roll up the cushy
It’s Mykel Hawk I’m on my grown man
sequins
And my heart beats like a machine gun
All my friends all need to party
Most of them are on the floor
Well I feel like I'm in heaven
As that boy
set my zone fire
While we live life on the beat like LAPD
The truth hurts
But I'm up for the ride
Ready to snap at any time
'Cause it's bumbled inside
I ain't trying to be no D-boy
I love music, I'm a b-boy
Are you the undercover or the decoy
I'm heavy with the D, Trouble T Roy
A pit with no muzzle,
When homeboys put vogues on any car
With 6 by 9's smoking burner
Everybody got addicted to my dope fiend beat
Whole town fucked around and started
of the plan
This for momma's momma got to get the grands huh
Yea yea
I know that boy fake by the way that he stand
This music shit easy like clapping my hands
I
to make sure we nailed that shit in
Ya know what I'm sayin
Fuck em!
Woke up in the beat boy
Hell hath no fury like a real one scorned
(hell nah)
Consider
of the reason why you're impressed
And unconsciously, undoubtedly, you're moving as I sing this
Remember the last time you felt a feeling like this?
The music's
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