Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cash Stacka's , by - 50/50 TwinRelease date: 05.11.2007
Song language: English
Cash Stacka's |
| Yeah, 50/50 huh Mob Boss of the Nawf |
| I had to go to the South know I’m saying, reach out |
| Pick up O.G. |
| Keke, he holla’d back know I’m saying |
| We gon tip down, you know I’m saying |
| Dig these blues, ounce for ounce hey |
| I’m the funky fresh cash stacker, foreign car ass actor |
| Ben Frank bill packer, heater toting hater whacker |
| Goodfellas movie watcher, apple seal trunk popper |
| Crack a smile real proper, diamonds sit inside colossal |
| Bad yella hammer puller, ain’t no telling how I do her |
| She a freak I’ma treat her like one, call my niggas let them run through her |
| Mob boss 50 fe', Southside Don O.G. |
| Keke |
| Steal his rhymes go sell em at school, all them hoes would cheer for me |
| Then I decided to write my own, ever since then crawl some’ing on chrome |
| 36 zone when I would get gone, drop them grams cut the microwave on |
| Lock up slow hell naw, true yola gon come back fast |
| Your shit ain’t mirror folds, if Mr. Davis didn’t give you the glass |
| Fuck fame money matter, squash the chatter I’m acting badder |
| Donadale blueberry dro, got 50 Twin higher than a ladder |
| Better yet giraffe pussy, I don’t hang out with no wussy |
| When it comes to the blow I move it slow, like salt and pepper I push it |
| I pull out drop top, sunny day rolling hard |
| I’m in the candy coated coupe, with a yellow broad |
| Southside Young Don, I’m a ghost writer |
| I’m in the trap getting paid, like and all-nighter |
| I’m in the school zone, tipping slow riding glass |
| Let up the trunk drop the bumper, and hit the gas |
| I’m known for showing out, acting bad hitting blocks |
| I’m on them rims flipping backwards, they won’t stop |
| H-Town on the map, do you hear a G |
| It’s 50/50 and Young Don, is you feeling me |
| I chase bread, on the highway and interstate |
| I’m trying to sell about a million, that’s plenty weight |
| Down in Texas, we swang on them elbows |
| And keep them shoppers and them boppers, on they tip-toes |
| I’m getting paid off these shows, and spitting flows |
| And when I’m on the Boulevard, I be tipping 4's |