Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song We Coming (Feat. San Quinn) , by - E-40. Song from the album The Block Files, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 28.02.2005
Record label: Street Show
Song language: English
We Coming (Feat. San Quinn) |
| I’m sky ballin', a young California pimp |
| Loungin' in a stretch Bently sittin low on the tents |
| Iced down, draped an dipped hittin bomb weed (bomb weed) |
| Servin' on stega shrimp, sippin' Dom P (Dom P) |
| Lavishly cordinated |
| Savagely corporated |
| On casino, Mr. Gambino’s Mobb affiliated |
| The world is mine, that’s what I read on a blimp |
| Playin cops I’m a robber with blue prints to the mint |
| Didn’t leave no evidence, went back to, my residence |
| Snatch the Benjamin’s, an all the other dead presidents |
| My hoochies like to toss me the coochie |
| Floss me in Gucci |
| But groupies would never cost me no Loochie |
| What I look like? |
| Givin' a hoe all my doe, like she wrote all my flows |
| Bitch I’m all-pro |
| You be the same hoe, on the stroll makin' me mo dinero |
| So tip-toe through the rain, sleet an snow |
| I gotta get my Money Over Bitches |
| They want the money, I want my riches |
| Quinnton mania, hoes I’m tamin' ya |
| Never praisin ya, never payin ya |
| Nothin' mo than attention |
| Havin' paper is an addiction |
| Your not bringin additions |
| Then subtract yo self from my jurisdictions |
| This is how I see it |
| My crew we be the cleanest |
| Pushin' Benzes and Beamers |
| These hoes ain’t pleased to meet us |
| Pass us Master Cards an Visas |
| Illegal searches |
| We smokin' roaches with no crutches |
| Bitches we cope, from bein' broke and do it like a hustla a |
| Ain’t no friends we all cousins |
| Baby networkin' |
| Money ain’t nothin' |
| You got it all? |
| You need to quit perpin' |
| A quarter million wouldn’t satisfy me |
| I be a Master like P |
| And I act like Luni |
| Only God can do me |
| Burn a crutch with doobie, approach smoothly |
| Only ladies with paper amuse me, an broke hoes choose me |
| But lose bein' in a pursuit of tryin to talk |
| For the conversation of fuck you and shit bitch it’s goin to cost |
| I got 2 for 1, from Ya-yo to in-do |
| Paper now, hoes later, the tradition in Fil-mo |
| Dime-els, bricks of Ya-yo, coke dealers, crack sales |
| Niggas that tell on Big Willies |
| Young killas, bitches that jock, look at 'em stare |
| Got 'em choosin, got hoes droolin' on a playa |
| My gold teeth glare, shinnin' like cheese goin «Bling» |
| Knock Out Playa, K-O-P in the street |
| I fuck with big timers, ridin' sideways with young thugs |
| Don’t manipulise, of Fil-mo hood nudge |
| Shake hood slugs, make hood drugs |
| Never could, never would a nigga hoe trust |
| Money Over Bitches |
| Trust a bitch I never would |
| Hoe I’m too major |
| Havin' paper like Tiger Woods |
| Famous in the Mo |
| Rob from the rich and slang Ya-yo to the poor |
| Flippin', manipulate a dumb hoe |
| For way mo' |
| I tell 'em BIA-TCH! |
| I love ballin', how could I be tired of bein' rich? |
| Been off the hook so long, got disconnected unexpected |
| And you niggas is wrong for payin' hoes an hoe protectin' |