| And I brought two of my niggaz with me and we about to shut the industry down
|
| Aiyyo Wheezy let’s get it poppin!
|
| Hit me!
|
| Front that shit this the south side, got a fat dick on your mouth wide
|
| I’ve come to take outside, nah do it right here
|
| Hop out later owning on everybody’s home that you fuckin with
|
| Wheezy F baby, please say the baby
|
| Riding with your bitch got keys on the lady
|
| Triple gold these four tires on the whip
|
| Young Carter sliding out I’m flyer than the whip
|
| Yeah, higher than an angel, or hotter than the devil
|
| The pot or kettle, uh The metal let 'em burn like Earth shiver births, uh If there's any beef I come running like Mertz, uh Word up, eagle street I'm throwing my curve up We take your ice cream and turn you into |
| sherbert
|
| I got flow I’m like «Sure"but, if it’s about dough I’m like «Sure 'nuff»
|
| I’m from the bird bunch, Birdman Jr. you niggaz bird lunch
|
| I see your lips moving but I ain’t heard much
|
| You see the wirst moving, it look like pure punch
|
| I hear the playa hating but I don’t endorse such
|
| I got the Escalade, guts like the tour bus
|
| I got the styrofoam poured up with syrup
|
| And in the tires little package is gone
|
| Might I spend a good deal with these Firestones
|
| I spit like Myer’s bones, born in chromers
|
| For the buyers chromosomes I got summers
|
| I got vicadens, valiums I ain’t stopping
|
| Got pot and heroin, ex, oxycontin
|
| And that’s how we rocking
|
| How can you hear that bop unless I’m be-bopping
|
| Yeah skip when you hear that click
|
| Cash money nigga I’m that shit
|
| I leave the begging ungh!
|
| That’s what I’m talking about
|
| Now Fab, spit at these niggaz and let them know why they ain’t fuckin with you
|
| Your goddamn right I’m feeling myself
|
| A chauffeur no sir, I’m wheeling myself
|
| Looking for a chick chilling for self
|
| So I can show her the suicides and talk her into killing herself
|
| I’m having problems dealing with wealth
|
| But you wouldn’t understand it, until you get a million yourself
|
| You niggaz must’ve got a deal for your health
|
| Your cd is frozen food, it just chills on the shelf
|
| I spend big, at any time I can start splurging
|
| The twin cigs open chests like a heart surgeon
|
| And I’m buttoned up, I’m just a blue collar crook
|
| But I keep a stack thick as few college books
|
| I got a new polished look
|
| And twenty dime bitches, to show y’all niggaz how my two dollars look
|
| The boy’s got at least six digits on So the guns gotta be at least midget long
|
| The money, is like ten bridges long
|
| I throw bread around just to turn pigeons on I got some good smoke just for puffers
|
| The two grand twenty’s make the hustlers suffer
|
| Plus it’s fluffer, than a cotton ball
|
| I’ve gotten calls wanting me to put the pot in malls
|
| But nowadays you can’t put it past 'em
|
| I got a Dan Marino arm, I’m bout to throw some bullets past 'em
|
| And the niggaz in the hood keep «ing my lines
|
| I don’t jump ship I keep floating in mine
|
| Long as I keep toting I’m fine
|
| I’mma have these dick sucking niggaz deep-throating the nine
|
| I jumped in the English ship, Benzed whip
|
| It’s Terminator 2 chrome the engines dip
|
| I’m reading scripts no, not the penmanship (no)
|
| The box-office shit (yeah), I box off this bitch (yeah)
|
| Jessica Alba, Kirsten Dunst
|
| And still make a mil’off the first of months
|
| These dudes be the first to front
|
| 'Til they family and friends is in limos, they in hearse in front
|
| I’m in the top position, I can make you a proposition
|
| I’m in the hard top waiting on the drop edition
|
| To hell with the patience
|
| I’mma send a nigga down under like Australia vacations
|
| Yeah it is what it is, my niggaz just killed y’all and I’mma close the casket
|
| I’m tryin not to let this industry get the best of me y’all
|
| I work hard in the game, the game’s stressing me y’all
|
| All they do is complain what they expect from me y’all
|
| From the hood to Hollywood they respecting me y’all
|
| And even overseas they accepting me y’all
|
| All the ladies show me love, the thugs repping me y’all
|
| I get a lot of dirty money so respect me or fall
|
| But I’m saving all my checks, I’m investing 'em all
|
| They say, what goes up is gon’definitely fall |
| Even the stars work success, it’s my destiny y’all
|
| Look, I cook tracks I got the recipe y’all
|
| You can’t name another cat that can mess with me y’all
|
| At the shows all the hoes be molesting me y’all
|
| I got broads crying trying to get next to me y’all
|
| I got broads craving begging to have sex with me y’all
|
| Screaming, «Cash you don’t know how sexy you are!»
|
| And I’m happy I’m alive, God’s blessing me y’all
|
| And all the problems that arrive is God testing me y’all
|
| So I pray everyday but I ain’t praying too much
|
| Cause I be sinning everyday so I ain’t praying enough
|
| And we all could be beat, and I ain’t saying I’m tough
|
| But if it’s beef I don’t speak, I ain’t saying «What's up»
|
| If it’s beef when we meet then I’m spaying shit up Prraat prraat. |
| I ain’t saying too much and that’s that
|
| Cause that cat you embracing with love
|
| Might clap that gat cause he got hate in his blood
|
| Keep your friends at a distance and your enemies close
|
| Cause the folks you call friends can envy the most
|
| Some cats’ll hang themselves if you give 'em a rope
|
| Burn the bridge and don’t give a boat, let 'em sink
|
| Sometimes you gotta give 'em some some time to let 'em think
|
| But sometimes you gotta give 'em the nine and let 'em stink
|
| You can’t bring every horse to the pond and let 'em drink
|
| I’d rather keep my eyes wide open instead of blink
|
| As soon as your eyes shut, them niggaz will ride up And the guys that you trusted be getting you tied up And we all gotta die, but I ain’t ready to leave
|
| That’s why even if it’s petty I’ll be ready to squeeze
|
| But put a cheddar in cheese, guac-a-moola
|
| I pop the ruger, send that hot shit through ya!
|
| Like booya! |
| That’s the sound when the pound busting
|
| Ooh, ah, you’ll be laying on the ground suffering
|
| Clowning’s nothing to pull out and blast you
|
| I try to only resort to violence if I have to But man niggaz out here are playing fair
|
| So before the odds are even I’m leaving them laying there
|
| And I ain’t even playing believe what I’m saying here
|
| Cause before this shit gets further your click gets murdered
|
| And found in a hole in the grass
|
| For trying to play that thug role I’ll stomp a mud hole in your ass
|
| And this Cass, nigga I’m that sick |