Lyrics:
the Eastside of Long Beach, that's 2-1 Street
See we, live and die by the gun and the knife
And I, high as a kite, corrallin through the night
Ha ha, stackin'
niggas'll dump a clip
We by the school yard waiting for you to get your kid
I caught a A1 felony on my last bid
Kept calm, made bond, I'm on that shit
You
niggas'll dump a clip
We by the school yard waiting for you to get your kid
I caught a A1 felony on my last bid
Kept calm, made bond, I'm on that shit
You
It's hard to maneuver
Thru all of this snow
And all these rainy days
And all these rainy days
She said she a rida
And baby I know
You just got
money to make
Trap in my passenger that be my ace
Trap trap
Took off her shirt and she rocking my chains
I'm from the crib and she reppin the same
Baby
I can't tell if you actin'
Take the bills off the flo'
Show you who the fuck be rappin'
Fuck a money counter I just want the action
Lil mama so
Niggas ought to know by now, how I'm coming
Better hit the flo, cause the round pack a hunnit
I want paradise in this life, Milk and Honey
I want paradise
a day and get done away like you fake
Straight out P.A. short Texas, servin' trees on the West
A money makin' machine, nigga I do it best
With
[Manny Fresh]
I told ya fuckin' ass I be back
In a brand new Fleetwood Cadillac
License plate say money makin' nigga fa sho
Chillin' by ya boy house
that bitch (bitch) (Flo Milli, shit haha)
(Flo Milli shit)
I go shopping 'til that time pass (duh)
You look for the clearance rack (bitch)
I don't
Blow, blow-blow out a cloud of smoke, hypnotized, symbolized
(Bugz on the beat) blow out a cloud of smoke
Flo Milli shit (hypnotized)
Uh, uh, uh,
call my shit Patricia
Young Money militia, and I am the commissioner
You don't want start Weezy, 'cause the F is for Finisher
So misunderstood, but
phone call we send for the hit-man
people die and no names get mention
people get prang, flo dan too nang
drive by shooting in a transit BANG BANG BANG
the Eastside of Long Beach, that's 2-1 Street
See we, live and die by the gun and the knife
And I, high as a kite, corrallin through the night
Ha ha, stackin'
it ain't about money you don't even gotta speak
I smoke it in a paper, Weezy smoke it in a leaf
And nigga I'm a stunna, I got runnas
And we keep
Ima Little Devil Nigga But I Dont Wear Prada Ima East Side Rida I Dont Speak Never Been a Socialiser I Work Hard Smoke Weed Ima Grinder If I Ride You
You gone make me wanna act up
Make me wanna bust yo wrist down
Icy girl like Alaska
Show me what a bag is
Show me how this money on flo
Make you do
none
But this paper and pen
I told you
I get to the money
Said Stack that shit up
That's them dividends
Bring that shit up
From the flo
If I pop
I want me more
I fuck that hoe pick yo money off the flo
Supa seven sounds yeah it's sex money baby
Seen her once she been missing me lately
Ima dirty
girls get down on the floor, on the floor
Make them girls get down on the floor, on the floor
By the time I hit the door I saw hoes on the floor
girls get down on the floor, on the floor
Make them girls get down on the floor, on the floor
By the time I hit the door I saw hoes on the floor
Got emergency blunts when I come home
Cause that rapper weed'll have your lungs gone
Yeah, Malibu beaches, unlaced bikini bottoms
Mo' money, mo'
shit, westside represent,
money and dope fuck a bitch, I'm a balla and a pimp
Nigga we real ridas, ain't no studio killas
Leavin them hurt, doin
Everyone is unaware
Like rubbing
And smelling the funk
From back of ear
Or leaving gas for passer bys
To catch in air
Public number twos with no use
Of wash
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