Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Work, artist - Mack 10. Album song Bang Or Ball, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2000
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Cash Money
Song language: English
Work |
Nigga wanna hustle |
Nigga wanna sell dope where we grow up nigga |
Ride with me and learn something nigga |
If not — stay away my playground nigga |
Yeah! |
— this shit right here is for real hustle niggas |
Real street niggas — y’all follow me |
Squared niggas — kick back and listen how is shit really go |
Uh! |
Cabbage work hoes goes spoke and pistols |
Last in getting away hearin whistles |
Scopin down map gestural back full of chips |
A hot ass scraps ski mask and two in the clips |
Scoop on 'em motophone let 'em know it’s on |
I pack use 'em draws homeboy — nigga we goners |
Beep on 'em Mexican though — we won’t work |
No Baking Soda slides twenty on 'em for the dirt |
Got 'em — strap on 'em my shell with ducktapes |
See nervous — while the Greyhouse escpae across Interstate |
Jumpin up in the friendly scotia down chicken weight |
For the work show up — and really do — be straight |
They pull up bread all the lookin flawless us a show dog |
Twenty bird and rally car like she a mother law |
Damn! |
— she'll need no duck the law |
Bitch got us switch walkin with the work like motherfuck the law |
That’s the shit nigga ball fo' |
How they dope that they wall fo' |
Jumpin on ' em hoes |
They floss the hoes |
We carry choppers stole us on homies with calicos |
With the funk kick — wishin y’all holy copy with those |
Banged out, thanged out — everybody hangin' out |
Whole crews anybody sayin we bust used |
Go back — blast the gas about to shootin' us |
For cabbage work hoes and hundred fo’s |
Now in the N and N.Y. talkin' to why dies with the bitch |
And some load ki’s me insider |
It’s now and never — turn back why should we |
Let’s turn this bitch upside down (how could we) |
First to be unnoticed — I don’t trust that bitch |
She fine — but she mixed with rat the lil snitch |
I don’t feel right I know crass bustin bust pipe |
And the fed I had up on punk ass snitch all night |
Where we better do — is send that bitch to the? |
Take the ki’s to the rally car and get that bitch the cap |
She go be mad about it cause she getting cut out |
But just let it know her job is done (bitch butt out) |
Why we here for? |
— (nigga we here paper chasin') |
Okay then — well let’s made this put reservatoins |
Bust — train or even train station |
If you got motophone we can start this operation |
That’s the shit nigga ball fo' |
How they dope that they wall fo' |
Jumpin on 'em hoes |
They floss the hoes |
We carry choppers stole us on homies with calicos |
With funk kick wishin' y’all holy copy with those |
Banged out, thanged out — everybody hangin' out |
Whole crews anybody sayin' we bust used |
Go back — blast the gas about to shootin' us |
For cabbage work hoes and hundred hoes |
Now I’m the KING OF ROCK — for my work |
One time shoot the block I did my sack about the dirt |
Like a dream team — both feams tryin' around me like impressed |
Takin' fifth G horse and spork the dope 'port |
Like a hell is seen hot for shit — I ain’t trippin' |
Got folks in the bushes with the chop chop — so I ain’t slippin' |
None of these out of town C’s and Beems |
Niggas playin 'em gueens street they never seen the pontrees |
Hobbed on the plane — I’m back on stinky greens |
And Inglewood floss and faded the whole scene |
1−0 back Ol' T — dope grindin' |
Fresh gear, big wheels, jewels shinnin' |
So I hit Shall Sunday — watchin' with low-low's hot |
Me and my N.O. |
partners — on the strippin' new drops |
Bentleys, Warreys, Benzes, Hummers |
With none full of fall for the next twenty Summers |
That’s the shit nigga ball fo' |
How they dope that they wall fo' |
Jumpin on 'em hoes |
They floss the hoes |
We carry choppers stole us on homies with calicos |
With the funk kick wishin' y’all holy copy with those |
Banged out, thanged out — everybody hangin' out |
Whole crews anybody sayin' we bust used |
Go back — blast the gas about to shootin' us |
For cabbage work hoes and hundred fo’s |
And there you have it — that’s how it go |
From top to bottom — half heart, half money nigga |
Oh — don’t get it fucked up |
I still got money for my first trip out of town |
Haha… you dig! |