| Wassup, Mac Dre?
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| I smoke indo
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| Yeah, all my folks, what’s happening?
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| Crestside, Crestside love
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| Yeah, we off the heezy
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| Sugawolf, put it up in 'em
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| Cause we off the heezy
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| Can you feel me?
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| Yeah, though
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| Sugawolf Peezy
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| One more time, on the motherfucking mic
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| Sugawolf Peezy represent Crestside
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| From the Mark Street, yeah you know
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| One more teezy
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| Chevy striker, dank igniter, all that shit, you know?
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| For my folks and shit, representing
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| Sugawolf Peezy, off the heezy, you know?
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| They call it easy
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| They call me
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| Sugawolf Peezy, off the heezy
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| Spit the gift for some screezy
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| That’s for sheezy
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| Hustling, puffing up on the weezy, yes indeezy
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| Baby boy that’s on the reezy
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| You best believe me
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| I break it down, speaking on major shit for sure
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| Hustlers, hogs and soldiers, feel me though
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| I be serving, speaking the gift of gab, working nerves and
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| Ain’t no pimp-a-trating, playa hating, yet you heard it
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| So I serve it, for your info
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| Toking and choking up on them Backwoods, full of indo
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| Let me split (split,) mob on a bitch
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| That’s fasho (sho,) in a fo' do'
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| And so, now the info is, off the indo spliff
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| It’s me, Sugawolf Peezy, ready to bump a bitch
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| Something crucial, as usual, I bogard
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| With the pimping gifted flows known for pulling hoe cards
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| It’s your boy, I bring the noise
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| Ain’t no sequel, or equal, I destroy
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| When I serve, I show no love for you herbs
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| Speaking up on that game baby boy, thought you heard
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| I heard the word around the town is
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| (Crestside playas like me we be houndin')
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| For real (for real,) stuck on major scrill
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| Fasho (Crestsider!) Act like you know
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| Now I be the G known for working suckas nerves
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| Off the heezy, indeezy, running up over curbs
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| Riding buckets, thinking fuck it, perm banging bitch
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| It’s me, Sugawolf, speaking pimp shit
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| I be hogging indeed, fucking 'em up fasho
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| Representing five trey five, got my folks in the do'
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| Country Club, Crestsiders, Chevy riders
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| Flip the script for major scrill, putting lead inside of
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| The fake and faulty pimps be hatin'
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| Speaking up on my name because they going through frustration
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| But I be keen, sipping on heem, choking on reefer
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| On the spot, packing chops, and millimeters
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| Do you feel? |
| I fuck with dogs they play dirty
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| Pop in the clip and get to spitting thirty
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| I bet they hurt him, thought you heard
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| That them god damn curves gone leak
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| Every time they fuck with me, so we
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| Strap that shrapnel, hollow hollow thangs
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| Striking that Chevy through your ghetto
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| It ain’t no thang, baby boy
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| We bring the noise, like Gotti boys
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| So you best to check your pimping 'fore I seek and destroy
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| Fucking 'em up, yeah I represent my folks
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| Fucking 'em up like that there, though
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| It’s your boy I destroy sucker emcees
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| You know they can’t get with me
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| I come through on that uh, Thug Passion
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| Hit the set like, whippin' dippin' and dashin'
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| See my folks, yeah you know
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| It’s how we do though, fo' sho'
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| Throwing up my three Cs like a big old G
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| You know, Crest vet, they can’t fuck with me
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| So you know you better get a personal package, we at that
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| And you know we got them shrapnels and fat gats
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| Yeah, though, Country Club, though
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| You better ask somebody
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| We hot as one fifty one Bacardi
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| You tramp bitch
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| Yeah, we serving 'em, something like that, though
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| Sugawolf Peezy off the heez, bitch |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Word , by - Dubee. Song from the album A.K.A Sugarwolf, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп