| She remember what it was
|
| She remember what it used to be
|
| But somewhere along the lines she fucked up
|
| And realized she lost her seat
|
| And, now, she just wanna ride with a G
|
| She just wanna ride with a G
|
| (Yeah, Yeah, Fool)
|
| Fresh out the time machine, I step
|
| Mercedes Benz SL5, the rides kept
|
| I play the field with stiff arms and side steps
|
| Bitches with whom I’ve slept solidify my rep
|
| Her baby doll eyes watered up, as she wept
|
| When I mention my intentions were to step
|
| Beast I be, her friends tell her not to speak to me
|
| We’ve got history
|
| I know I still can be, fool
|
| And women I’ve been with know it’s true
|
| No matter what I got goin'
|
| Saw me wit my mang thang
|
| Still got my number she textin' my phone,
|
| She just wanna ride with a G
|
| I can’t knock her
|
| For fuckin with these imposters,
|
| Lower case G’s, little me’s
|
| Them niggas pickin' sticks and seeds outta they weed,
|
| My budd covered in fuzz
|
| But not surrounded by the police
|
| She remember what it was
|
| She remember what it used to be
|
| But somewhere along the lines she fucked up
|
| And realized she lost her seat
|
| And, now, she just wanna ride with a G
|
| She just wanna ride with a G
|
| Playa, playa, lay a, spraya
|
| On the real loco
|
| I should be the mayor
|
| Compassionate, rare
|
| Fly to a spider
|
| Scope on me tough like a sniper, viper
|
| My cipher is G’s
|
| No fleas, green trees
|
| No seeds, oh please
|
| We press, we ease
|
| Artistically in a midst of me
|
| I’m mystically and magical
|
| The weight I form the group
|
| Makes a move I mean cuz my shit is like classical
|
| It blows my mind and I know
|
| This new diamond I quote
|
| It’s worth about a mil ticket
|
| Baby is ya down to come get it?
|
| Cause my seat is unoccupied
|
| West coast livin' is you down to ride?
|
| We can take ya to the spot maybe,
|
| But it’s hot baby
|
| From the bottom all the way to the top, baby
|
| You with the boss dogg, that it is
|
| See I’m bout the currency with urgency
|
| Can ya dig, dig, dig, dig, dig |