Lyrics Oh Yeah (Work) (Sean P. Of YoungBloodZ and E-40) - Lil Scrappy, E-40, Sean P. of YoungBloodZ

Oh Yeah (Work) (Sean P. Of YoungBloodZ and E-40)

I hear everyone of you
We do it like the army do
I can go vertical
Let’s go, hey, hold up (hold up)
No!!!
Blow!!!
Oh!!!
C’mon, crank it, c’mon!
Eh!
Oh!
Got Cartier frames coverin' up my eyes
26 inches inbetween my tires
Knot in my pocket better believe three grand
Diamonds on my neck and a pistol in my hand
I’m a get money nigga I grind like hell
When I show em the G’s I’m a crank up the scale
Oh yeah (Oh yeah) I’mma crank up the scale
Oh yeah (Oh yeah) I’mma crank up the scale
I ain’t never goin broke no mo'
As long as my folk keep runners of that blow
They sell it on out then thay bring they back mo'
And ere’body askin what I got that work fo' (got what?!)
Got diamonds in my shades the Cardier frames
They look up at my face and tell its woodgrain
And the Ho’s be amazed they be like OH!
They can see it from the bar see the way it glows
Yeah!
them things twinkle in the light bright
I don’t know I just twinkle in the lime light
Got a chevy same color as a can of sprite
Sippin on on that X O got me feelin right
I been livin my whole life pimpin
Never catch me slippin fuckin wit ya’ll women
Scrapp be chillin I stay on my grind
It’s a hard life we livin I stay wit my nine
Ain’t gotta hit these streets no mo'
Crisp 15 ten 24 show
Notice I ain’t never Fo' times e’ery week
20 time fo' every week get G’s
Party game shades with the gator cut wood
Prada footwear damn yall nigga do it
Pimpin in Atlanta now they callin me in Europe
Everyday I hustle diamonds up against the wood
Dope boy fresh dressed in red monkey clothes
Gotta stay fresh for you red moneky Ho’s
26 inches sittin tall like WHOA
I’m a need a camera man I’m a god Damn show
Shower cap and all bitch you already know
Fuck around with dopers squeeze the money out a Ho
I’m a get money nigga yeah I grind like hell
Rubberband around my money like a God damn playa
(slugged out grill) they say hustle that dat boy
(worth a few mill) he sittin at the bar
(tearin up hundred dollar bills) thats his car parked by the front Do
(on them big wheels) he ain’t never been a punk
Bugga suga plusha FUCK a state trooper
I’m livin for the moment I ain’t livin for the future
My dudes will bring it to ya bring the noise like a Tuba
Crack ya peanut shell run up on ya with the Ruger
Smoke herb like a hippie drink like a pirate
Wrist real crisp haters dont like it
Jack of all trades, gotta get my chips
Manipulate ya broad put ya chick on Craigslist
Traffic om in and out yall work when its a drought
Dont take the main street take the under route
Sucka use yo head you heard what I said
I’m gettin carpal tunnel while I’m countin all this bread