Lyrics:
your money
[Cee-lo]
Check it, baby
So ghetto like hot fries
I come from Melvin and resemble
Twenty-twenty with his blood shot eyes, got thirty-two
stop me cause there ain't no limit
I make a hundred racks and Ima spend it
Know I made that money off a snippet
I always pull up big body business
Man
the fuck up
And look me in my eye to listen to whats what
Took more than your slice of pie it’s granted I get buck
Instead of a gun butt
Ima give you
a clip to your abs
You get torn up fucking with P
You'll get it bad
Its like the same old song
Let nigga front, blow his top off
And I'm not in
on the corner, don't let the pigs get you
Not like these fools who don't comprehend
You end up doing a twenty-five bit in the pen
You got that? Getting your
companions, your hand is off by a mantis i mean man this
Shit can't be happenin', saw my homie jump after tappin' in, better stop me from rappin' again
Grab
bag
I never fuck with fags
Make em all suffer bad
Slugs from that dirty shot gun
That'll crush your abs
I got a bodega flow, it's sort of new
Spit like
forget where you from
See my shoes I'm stepping on shit
Couldn't get right I left that bitch
Dogwalker it left a scent
Moving like the president
Young
don't give no fucks, and no shits, too
We gonna bone your mare's ass, what the fuck you gonna do
Gonna eat that mare's bussy like a Cheeto
Gonna roll up,
homeboy, there's any static?
Do we have to draw joints and get dramatic?
Or can we cool and be jolly old chaps
Or break loose, pull out guns and bust caps?
looking like low clouds
Cars with no miles on fire, they broke down
White people wishing that they was at home
Asians fronting like they business is
If Pirus & Crips cll Got clong
They'd Probably Gun Me Down By The End Of This Song
Seem Like The Whole City Go cgainst Me
Every Time I'm In
to be in a frying pot
You don't know what it's like to mind your business
And get stopped by the cops and not know if you 'bout to die or not
You worry
To Hoe Up, But Hold Up
When The Clamp Has Appeared They Show Up
Sayin That Snitch Song S***, You Lil' Puss A** B****
Beg Tanya Lita How She Get Ya A**
them no be pythons
Most of these hoes low key out of they mind
Fuck for designer shoes and bags
Some fuck to get likes
Tell her I come from the block
do
No way in hell I be gettin' dissed by a phony like you
Ah shit
You 'bout to get a whole ear full, I'm here 'til
Someone shuts me up but I'll never
Yo
They say I changed like my phone number
But have you ever felt betrayed by your own mother?
My own niece, own sisters, and my own brother
There's
career, I supposed to be right back there with dem
I owed it to him, I know it I show it
Don't wanna blow it or pour it
For da streets, give me a beat
hard as you like
That life OD'd your love
The fall was quick
He left so soon
The boy never had a chance man
He was cursed from the womb
You get one life
more missteps if I fire no misfire get your wig checked do a quick check heat check then I eject people don’t know but you know this is direct tell
the now
Went from hangin' on blocks to hangin' on charts
Positions is part of my mission to hangin' on top
Gotta get your polly cracker or with them
Every cop is closer to a cell
Hit the cell, your ticket right to hell
No job, no bail no fam, no meal
Institution another nigga, fail
Go from pussy
dont gotta gun we gon box act funny or u will get shot like fck we blew out his top
We make it rough motherfuckers all over cant puff this aint a bluff
give it to ya
Imma show ya what that business is
Imma give it to you like that
Imma give it to ya
Imma show ya what that business is
Imma give it to you
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