| Ayo Millz break the block down from A to Z
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| I can supply you with work lil' nigga, I’m like the Temp. |
| Agency
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| I’m in the kitchen wood chilled with the feet broke
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| Soft white got the table lookin' like a ski slope
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| Fuck «goin out» me and my money elope
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| And most niggas rap about money but they be broke
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| My man went to Moorehouse and had a strong flow
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| So I had him pitchin' in Atlanta like John Smoltz
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| Makin' money make the world go round
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| A stack’ll make a nigga girl go down, clown
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| Patron and Grey Goose’ll get the bitch loose
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| And after the crew I’ll have her lickin' on the 'sis too
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| We gettin' money where I’m from nigga
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| You gettin' tired of your chick tell her pack her shit (I'll come and get her)
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| I’ll put her on to some shit and get her grind right
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| Get her mind right fatten the ass and get her spine tight
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| I’m the flyest, most niggas want a deal with Nike
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| I’m like dumb nigga I’m tryna buy it
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| I need percentages I don’t care who the hottest
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| Lil' nigga I think +BIG+ like Christopher Wallace
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| And I (and I) won’t stop till my grand kids' grand kids sittin on dollars
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| And I ain’t even a father, nigga
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| Call me your majesty, I’m young black and fly
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| When it come to dough I got a Jewish mentality
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| Lil' fuck niggas still tryna battle me
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| I go in they mouth like I’m the dentist lookin' for cavaties
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| I don’t know why your mans hyped you with that battery
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| I’ll hit your whole team with caps and I don’t mean salaries, nigga
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| I already got dough now I’m chasin the power
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| I’m the statue stand tall cuz I’m replacin' the Towers
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| And these niggas washed up now they faces is sour
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| Mad cuz they broke and lonely and I’m makin them dollars
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| With enough divas to spread out to ten cities
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| I can throw assists all night like I’m M. Bibby
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| Harlem got a fuckin' reason to front now
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| Uptown, let’s go we got a reason to stunt now
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| I told Joey and Stack shit ain’t in tact
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| Captains lost our city now we gotta get it back
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| Nigga, you can take it how you wanna
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| But ain’t nothin impress me for the last three summers
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| I don’t give a fuck how disrespected you may feel
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| Nigga see me when you see me
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| It’s whateva, it’s Jae Millz mother fucker
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| Nigga the crew feel better when well rounded (chea)
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| Still rounded (chea), dress square but a nigga well rounded
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| Grounded like I came home late on my curfew
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| And proved I was better than most niggas my first two (what)
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| Lil' years in the mixtape league
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| Now it’s biddin' war time I got a Bloomburg league
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| So the hood’s overwhelmed (why)
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| They know it’s the voice of the hustler whenever they hear son up at the Helm
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| Son give’em hell like «damn, he on the advocate»
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| The fans fiendin' for it they got the addict itch
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| That’s the bundles put it all in your nose
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| These niggas is lil' me’s, hear it all in their flows
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| Ho’s, that’s a topic you don’t even wanna touch on
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| I face fuck the ones you couldn’t touch on
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| Hand brushed on see the denim know what these bout
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| The Antiques, Red Munkey’s, or Vi’s out
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| Yall bring the V’s out I can even splurge
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| GT’s wasn’t me so I’m leanin' towards the Spurs
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| Leanin' towards the furs a lil' more to my nature
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| Mink coyote, fox all in the nature
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| I get it in blocks I’m the Semour Cakester
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| I give it on the arm you can get it from me
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| Caues if prices was any cheaper y’all be sellin' it for free
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| Paid 2−3 sell it for 2−2-5
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| McDonald’s is making more for profit on super size
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| I spit the truth inside niggas wrote the fake shit
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| These niggas practicin' snitchin' y’all on some jake shit
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| Millz spoke on it, I agree with him
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| Can’t even spar with niggas what’s the reason for a gym
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| Ain’t hot even to even work up a sweat
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| I been fire since Wu days with The Perfect Cassette
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| So when you mention my name these niggas get offended
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| No chain on just a five star pendant
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| General of that Riot so Squad Up
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| Feelin' real prestigious hoppin' out that Porsche truck
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| I’m on top of my game and still climbing
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| They not fucking with him can’t even peel the hymen
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| It’s the nigga with the mask on that will yack dude for jewels
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| Ain’t gotta say it, that dudes the truth
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| Make me put that tool to use
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| And these niggas will be in the game shakin like Mahmoud Abdul Rauf |
| Not turrets, gotta rep, my team to the end
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| Lambos to ferraris to the beamers to the benz
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| If I blam it’ll kill, never ran never will
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| Only thing that bleed on me is these jeans on my timbs
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| Hat low its not a weak link in my squad
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| I’m LL In Too Deep, I’m thinkin I’m God
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| As far as rappers I’m thinkin they’re frauds
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| Call them all rubix cubes cause I really used to think they was hard
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| For once trust me you don’t wanna start problems
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| The pound will make you Eddie Curry with a heart problem
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| So if you on the block wit only a few grams man
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| Then you a bird nigga, Tucan Sam
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| And any beat ima air that, rappers just gotta wear that
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| Fox Brown should be the only one that can’t hear that
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| Hit you in the spine or the belly, gun on me
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| I ain’t Sticky Fingaz, I ain’t leave mine in the telly, smell me?
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| Thank god he ain’t fucking wit that red line
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| Cause i’ll merk any nigga that disrespect mine
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| If it wasn’t fed time, or lock up or rec time, dude’ll be a daily news headline
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| You ain’t the best, what memo got sent?
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| If you got dogs what kennel they in?
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| So if you wanna get fresh like a mentos mint
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| Then it’ll tempt those men, wit clips longer than Leno’s chin
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| Ain’t no type guts wit you
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| You Terrel Owens them niggas that wear eagles
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| They don’t even wanna fuck with you
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| Me fam? |
| I was pimpin weed dirt, back when niggas used to rock Simpsons t-shirts
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| I’ll give it to any nigga, I mean any nigga
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| Big man or skinny nigga, dare a dude tempt me nigga
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| Auto or semi nigga, dump it till it’s empty nigga
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| They don’t even want you in New York, you like Penny nigga
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| Check the time it’s around that hour
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| Lil niggas they ain’t around that powder
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| They ain’t super or Luigi or Mario, ain’t found that power
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| Plus they couldn’t spit fire if they found that flower
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| Cowards, know the toys bust loco
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| They tryin to dap my hand like the Boy’s Club logo
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| And yea that 5 slide and clock
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| I’m the Million Dollar Baby, but I won’t die tryin to box
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| Dont want a piece of the cake, I won’t the pie and all
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| I don’t believe 'em when they say they be supplying the raw
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| You don’t move white you lying dogg
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| That’s a neverending story without the white flying dog
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| These dudes is broke don’t know the feeling of bread
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| They in dept, tampon niggas still in the red
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| And the fans keep askin if ya man stopped beefin
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| I call 'em Mr. Fantastic, tell 'em stop reaching |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 6 Minutes of Death , by - Joe Budden. Song from the album Mood Muzik Vol. 2, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп