Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mailman, artist - al-dDate of issue: 24.03.2002
Song language: English
Mailman |
| (what the fuck is 250 dollas, say Fed-Ex |
| This Al-Ex, and I’m fin to execute your |
| Motherfucking ass, if you don’t give me the |
| Rest of my god damn money) |
| (*screaming*) |
| I’m the mailman, I’m the mailman |
| I’m the mailman, sacks or stacks in my hand |
| I’m the mailman, I’m the mailman |
| I went from rags to riches, now you bitches can’t understand |
| I wonder if a nigga, wasn’t down with this rap shit |
| Would I get the love and hugs, and all this dap shit |
| Signing autographs, no strap no mask |
| Now my trash in the past, ain’t gotta worry bout the task |
| I got up off my ass, and mashed for my cash |
| Now his and her jacks, or own glass in the grass |
| I stash and stash, until I stretch mark the vault |
| And the pain from the game, made me gain with my chalk |
| I thought of this day, when the haters all knock |
| Now I’m getting props, from the same foul mouth |
| God damn, niggas ain’t shit now-a-days |
| And bitches flock a nigga, when they see you getting paid |
| But like I got mine, you gotta get your’s |
| I’m on my grind in the studio, as if it was chores |
| Now you look shook, and you don’t understand |
| I went from rags to riches, bitches call me the mailman |
| First I’ll fuck my foes, and these money hungry hoes |
| Two-face niggas and bitches, hating to see me on toes |
| From the hood to every state, city, town and block |
| I’m infesting the intersection, with this uncut knot |
| Watch what you can’t stop, don’t knock cause we the shit |
| Third Coast smoke and toast, to this pimping G shit |
| Forever chasing cheddar, ass on leather |
| Dripping candy gripping wood, see we floss together |
| Living lavage with lavage, having straight to karats |
| Now we too damn established, in the eyes of the savage |
| We gon ball till we fall, hanging placks on the wall |
| Sipping drank and smoking dank, passing up the alcohol |
| Buy up the whole mall, invest and make mo' |
| G’d up head to toe, and keep our music playing slow |
| Third Coast my home, but I’m Southeast raised |
| Trying to increase my knot, and find a spot in the shade |
| The mailman bitch, but I’m here to collect |
| Take my respect, make sure I get the right ones to check |
| You feeling me yet, I gotta get mine |
| Every nickel and dime, I stop niggas like stop signs |
| With Glock 9's and barettas, it’s whatever with me |
| The G-O-V, still throwing up S.U.C |
| 3−2 and Al-D, go and get it with no tussle |
| Working our muscle, living our life on the hustle |
| Wanting our albums, doing shows and features |
| When this deal go bad, I’ma have to delete ya |
| You wanna meet your up talk, with all the shedded dealing |
| I’m bout cash in my hand, brother how a nigga feeling |
| I’m the mailman |