Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Paid N*gga, artist - C-NoteDate of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Paid N*gga |
| Turn me up, turn my mic up |
| Turn my mic up, turn my mic up |
| Turn my mic up. |
| I’m a paid nigga, live my life |
| On the streets, from the cradle to the grave nigga |
| I’m a made nigga, got no time for you bitches |
| And you bustas, I’m a paid nigga |
| I’m a paid nigga, living laid nigga |
| Candy sprayed Escalade, valet nigga |
| Slamming foreign do’s, jamming foreign hoes |
| See me spo’ting nothing but ice, man I’m feeling cold |
| I’m a South boy, you run your mouth boy |
| 40 caliber’ll, take a nigga out boy |
| Still pimping, platinum albums we shipping |
| Got them girls in the club, steady stripping |
| We still gripping grain, we still swang and bang |
| Got that new Hummer 2, with that wide frame |
| Kicking like Shenobi, niggas say they know me |
| I be balling like I’m playing, next to Shaq and Kobi |
| Nigga pass the do-di, cause mayn I’m going off |
| Just spent a quarter mill, on that new house |
| This the new South, coming with the blue frost |
| First nigga, in the hood with the blue mouth |
| Still living lavish, still got to have it |
| Just like a fat rabbit, gotta have them carrots |
| Three in my ear, twenty on my arm |
| Ten in my teeth, fifteen on my charm |
| Johnnie hooked me up, labels look me up |
| The way we shine down South, got em shooken up |
| Burberry Jags, Burberry rags |
| 4−4 mag, make my Burberry sag |
| Steady dropping heat, niggas can’t compete |
| Got the new Navigator, with the fold out seats |
| Banging Chris beats, flowing on a platinum mic |
| I’m in the studio, staying up all night |
| Back to back nigga, platinum tracks nigga |
| Gotta stack mo' figgas, like my name was Jigga |
| I keep shit knocking, so quit baller blocking |
| Trying to stack mo' paper, then the Johnnie Cochran |
| Look at the Benz look at the house, Gucci seats Gucci couch |
| Man I think I’m balling out, the way my screens be falling out |
| Like them diamonds I be shining, like the Clipse it got me grinding |
| Bet this year I’ll make a mill, way before I get the deal |
| Wood wheel gripping steel, coming down with the bumping grill |
| Blowing kill we keep it trill, I know they hate but we keep it real |
| I’m a G I know, and my trunk on glow |
| And if them boys want a show, I’m ten G’s or mo' |
| Stacking paper tall, as if them scrapers dog |
| What you want I got it all, I’m making paper dog |
| Stack them D’s (stack them D’s), sell em cheap (sell em cheap) |
| Never tell, is the code of the streets |
| I’m a paid nigga, sitting on blades nigga |
| Got the crib with the maid nigga, automatic shades nigga |
| Made nigga, never been a slave nigga |
| I’m a brave nigga, pop trunk wave nigga |