| Uh!
|
| What’s good my nigga?
|
| Feel I write you a lil' kype!
|
| Let you know what’s going on here…
|
| Yeah!
|
| Dear Mr. Rayquon Elliott! |
| — They knew you as Stacks. |
| (Bundles!)
|
| I didn’t mean to call out your alias
|
| You pro’ly think I’m being rebellious. |
| — But that ain’t the case! |
| (no!)
|
| You turnin' over in ya grave
|
| Listenin' to flows thta nigga spit
|
| That me and you help develop
|
| And oh, I fucked that nigga bitch;
|
| Reminisce the days in the studio — we was makin' hits
|
| Can I roll with' you, crunch time
|
| Hooks, no punchlines. |
| — Crooks, no one time
|
| We was all wave, look at now! |
| (look!)
|
| Jim only sold 10 thou!
|
| Put his men down, they ain’t have a shot
|
| Put a lil' arsenal together, Yung Los, Mustard and Al Pac!
|
| How hot? |
| — Niggas think they are when they up against
|
| Dropped the Quarantine! |
| — All the bitches in love with' it
|
| See me after shows, gimme groupie love! |
| — Copped the 750-L.I. |
| (L.I.!)
|
| When they see me in the Coupe they love, lugie up
|
| Copped a new crib for my wifey
|
| 'Bout to start trial. |
| — Marty, my prosecutor, tried to knife me
|
| Tried to put me back in the oranges
|
| They want filet mignone. |
| — Cheese grits, and omelets problems just
|
| Always had me heart in it
|
| Told you from the jump that he’s a creep! |
| — Money was just a part of it
|
| Nigga wanted both our styles, my hooks, your flows!
|
| Our song! |
| — Chrissy was in the car alone
|
| All the while! |
| — He was out at nights, eye twerkin'
|
| Puttin' together waves, we was surfin'. |
| — Nigga came burstin'
|
| Flyin' through the doors tryna kick my whores out on the street (damn!)
|
| After I’m three songs deep
|
| Now I got my own lab, two Mac Pros
|
| Got the Digi-3 Pro Tools!
|
| Bigga got the vocal! |
| — Bigga got the (got the…) — soul food!
|
| Chicken, macaroni with the cheese, that’s my homie now — Big Mook!
|
| O.F.O. |
| — He tried to slow me down! |
| — Told me nephew showed discipline
|
| Pussy ain’t' money, time to get it in
|
| Nigga these bitches come late and get ya paper, did the bid
|
| But the nigga got 8 kids
|
| Anyway! |
| — Back to the matter at hand. |
| — It's all the songs
|
| Everybody on Hot 9, they usin' autotunes!
|
| Niggas is not Wavy! |
| — Gravy — played the B.I.G. |
| movie
|
| I went to see it, woozy, moody!
|
| And on that note! |
| — I'm 'bout to end this shit
|
| Squa-Squaaad Up! |
| — Really I’m representin', ch’eah!
|
| Representin' baby!
|
| My letter to Stack Bundles!
|
| Ch’eah!
|
| Let ya know what’s goin' on!
|
| Pro’ly turnin' over in ya grave!
|
| I love my family! |
| (Fuckin' with' this man)
|
| I love the way that we used to be! |
| (Got me against the ropes!)
|
| Niggas is gettin' trees
|
| See I got that Sour D’s and that Juicy Juicy (Boss Don Biggavel'!)
|
| Baby you found my name. |
| (O.F.O!)
|
| We at the penthouse, let these hoes stay-yay (R.I.P. Stack baby!)
|
| Tell me why the road turned
|
| Nigga ain’t do one of these!
|
| Where’s the dedication, where’s the homage?
|
| Fuck him!
|
| I got you nigga!
|
| Got so many hits together dog!
|
| So crazy…
|
| So wavy…
|
| Abra-cadabra!
|
| Pen-a-tow
|
| M.O.B. |
| 1!
|
| So many songs man!
|
| Letter To Stacks
|
| Boss Don Biggavel'!
|
| Oww! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Letter to Stacks , by - Max B. Song from the album The Waviest, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп