Song parody of

Double Shots

by Mobb Deep

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  • English (English)
  • Français (French)
  • Español (Spanish)

It's a celebration y'all, let's do it! (Havoc) Yeah y'all Bounce, yeah, bounce YEAH! Aight? Aiyyo.. Cats like, "Hav', what the deal Dunn?" Nigga back on his grind, tryin to kill son A little shorty on some shit, oh she still frontin? But jumped back on the dick when she saw me thumpin Straight short nigga oxin niggaz givin 'em doctor stitches First chance I get, you know I'm shittin on them fake-ass thugs, stuntin in the club Don't get scuffed in front of these broads Homey so pussy, what they do to they broad Beat them bitches up if they dance to the Mobb Type of shit is that? That won't stop her from lettin us blow her back, bounce to that Homey we got this locked Like champagne in a wino hand we gon' pop and Hate on you lame-ass niggaz, we need not Cause first niggaz hate on us, they get shot (2X Chorus) Just party, don't get yourself shot (uh-huh) Leave all the drama back home at the block At the bar double shots goin down, straight chillin While the DJ, playin what I'm feelin (pimpin them hoes) (Prodigy) Yeah, aiyyo I'm -- permanently bugged, genuinely thugged I'm hot-blooded, don't have me with the snub All at you with the bullets that spray pellets, you fucked And I'm back up on shorty with the hourglass cut We got mountains and we gon' have a smokefest son c'mon, feel like Vegas, we bringin home used paper Ain't it amazin I'll stretch how we keep bangin We got thousands to spend on them drinks gangsta Queensbridge, Mobb Deep like terrorists We come through, blow shit up, America's nightmares right here live in the flesh Our blood and bone be sittin in Ferraris and better We out in L.A. we drive our own cars, they not renters And take flights back home to hop up in some next shit While you tryin to get your hand on some cash We never gotta touch money again, we got plas-tic (Chorus) (Noyd) Feel that nigga, yeah Okay yo, aiyyo Aiyyo we ain't gotta lay, we can bang it out neighbor Shit, 'til them fuckin flamers empty out player Cause boy I thought you knew, don't confuse me with the music I'm on loadin nines up, ridin up, shootin it I'm hotter than the corner on the ave out in Newark I'm grimy, you find me where the loot is with Lugers The bodies, the hotties, the hustlers and the shooters With dudes that'll cut ya, that's what eatin your food is Fools know the rules pull out your tools better buck it Cause niggaz be flaggin and braggin when they cut up your nugget Knee deep in the grind like "fuck it" We gotta keep it real son that's only how the people gon' love it And learn to respect the Infamous to the death kid We on another level, yeah we really on some next shit Got the techs spittin and makin more connections Makin more cash and blastin more weapons (Chorus)

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Double Shots

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