Lyrics I'm A Thug (Rapper Gone Bad) - Mac Dre

I'm A Thug (Rapper Gone Bad)

Yeah yeah
This is a money-motivated song, man, right?
If you’re allergic to paper
You might not fit in when niggas gon' have do a caper, man
Yeah
We ain’t allergic to paper, man
So we gon' try to turn you niggas around, man
Yamean?
Yeah
We gon' try to motivate y’all to get your money
Cause we money-motivators
The way I feel about this here be so detrimental
How a PS nigga click with that Double R kennel
530, I’m dirty, hate to say it
Represent turf titans and tight with major players
With mo' seasoning, suckers be sneakin in the circle
Urkel niggas soakin every line, still ain’t with the verbals
Get to hoppin' hurdles like Jesse Owens in the fast
Return-type tactics so quick shakin' that past
In they entourage bitches be hazy like the samurais
Get the mullah, stay savage and suave
Now is that swavage?
Well certainly
Still I keep it global
Multiple skyscraper paper, unknown totals
Who we?
Who that be?
Dubee, ask your peoples
I leave Sasquatch footprints and keep it off the heezo
Cizzo please, it ain’t no need in hawkin' me
Please believe, I breathe on greenbacks, yamean?
The way I feel about loot
Ooh, it ain’t no doubt about it
I’m a thug
Say how you do, sir?
Well, everything is everything, how 'bout you, brah?
Man, I’m tryin to get my paws on some loot, sir
If it ain’t scratch it ain’t shit, how 'bout you, sir?
Yeah that’s the truth, brah
Say I’m a natural, call me 7−11
Playboy, it’s factual, I stay high as the heaven
I’m like the castle
On the chess boards slide front to backwards
Up and down, side to side, boy, we at this
Me, Dre and Dubee savages in the masses
They call my type of people roguish-ass bastards
I pull a babe in and tell her flip the matress
And get the cash quick
Now player listen, this ain’t no test of your broadcast system
Them niggas PSD and them be comin' with 'em
It ain’t no puzzle how I feel about my scrillas
Gotta feed my chil’ens
At the building, chilling, living anxious
Waitin' for this bitch to deliver some funyuns
The same routine every day
Get dipped then I split in the Chevrolet
The four 15's shake the mirror
When the EB’s quake couldn’t sound no clearer
Feelin' so cool in my old school
Ain’t trippin' off a bitch, I need some mo' loot
Oh, you ain’t know you better check my file
I get stupid doo-doo dumb, don’t sweat the style
Me and my niggas represent the real
Don’t think we kill?
Bet a 100 dollar bill
I’ma leave a body, no leads or clues
Cutthroat Committee, bitch, we some fools
Killas for the scrilla, sucker, can’t you tell?
The real motherfuckers representin' Vallejo