Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Move Around, artist - Big Moe. Date of issue: 21.01.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Move Around |
| Ha, this how we gon do this straight up |
| This goes out to all you bitch ass niggas |
| Feel that, know I’m saying, know I’m saying |
| I can’t have you around me with that bitch shit |
| Straight up nigga, get the fuck away from me |
| Know I’m saying, this Noke D, Noke D’s in here |
| Fuck whoever don’t like me straight up |
| Run tell that, know what y’all could do for me for real |
| I’m a rider daddy, let a big nigga breathe |
| You the reason why your girl, keep jocking me |
| Got too many hands, pulling on Big Moe |
| But ain’t too many hands, that Big Moe get thoed |
| See I was born, all by myself |
| If it wasn’t for the worst, I wonder who would be left |
| Who really gonna hold me down |
| When all the chips, finally hit the ground |
| I had to stop, and look around |
| At all these new friends, I just found |
| Cause when I started out, singing these songs |
| It was me, Screw and a microphone |
| Slanging grey tapes, on Gravestone |
| All night long, sipping pints to the dome |
| Now I’m making hits, getting ghetto bitch |
| Now all these hoe ass niggas, be up on my dick |
| Move around |
| Get the fuck out my face |
| Move around |
| 'Fore you make me catch a case |
| Move around |
| And get the fuck out my grill |
| Move around |
| And let a big nigga chill |
| See I finally realize |
| That the whole world is in disguise |
| And all the pain that’s in my eyes |
| Came with the fame, and all the lies |
| And all the labels, with these deals |
| All in my grill, telling me about scrill |
| But Big Moe, still got deals |
| Fuck Beverly Hills, I’m still Southsive |
| From the cradle, to the grave |
| To the end of my days |
| I’m still gon get pay-ayed |
| From the block, to the top |
| To the last tick tock |
| All you roaches and you rats, won’t stop |
| Hollin' what it do, claiming that you true |
| But I got my eyes focused, on you |
| Move around, beat your feet and get to walking |
| With all that con game, and fast talking |
| My dogs start barking, and things get ugly |
| Touching boys up, getting rough like rugby |
| I needs my space, so clear my atmosphere |
| You nothing ass fools, better get from round here |
| All up in my ear, I’m trying to holla at this broad |
| But you riding my pitbull, like menage tois |
| Running up on my car, wanting a contract |
| I ain’t looking for no acts, but you bout to get slapped |
| To a coma, gone on a, get to stepping |
| Down the yellow brick road, 'fore I pull out my weapon |
| I done told you once, won’t tell you twice |
| Move around playboy, shake and roll like dice |
| All that grabs handshakes, all that’s fine |
| But it’s a place for everything, and partna it’s about time |
| Move around |
| Fake ass niggas, get out my face |
| Move around |
| Better move on down, 'fore I catch a case |
| Move around |
| Fake ass niggas, get out my grill |
| Gotta move around |
| Let a playa just chill |
| Just chill, get out my grill |
| Old fake ass niggas |
| Old faaaaake ass niggas |
| Ooooooh |