Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Wonabees, artist - Three 6 Mafia. Album song Kings Of Memphis: Underground, Vol. 3, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 30.10.2000
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Smoked Out
Song language: English
Wonabees |
Wonabee wonabee |
Everybody wonabee |
Like a young G Gold teeth, drinkin’Hennessy |
Slang a ounce, to a bird |
In the street, like the curb |
Candy paint, twenty chrome |
Chiefin’on green herb |
I got this clout NOW! |
Back in the day, I wasn’t here NOW! |
Since I been droppin’these verses |
I’m out the head |
Just like the babies wanna think I’ll come home |
I’m from the South bloaw, |
I got Hypnotize gear on my body, throw on the set |
Real quick, y’all squeezin’them triggers we bout to pop (pop) |
Any fly lil’mama’s boy, who movin’up on the block |
Think you the stuff, you think you rough, boy quit playin' |
Gangsta Boo know where she stay |
Between the nozzle you layin' |
You tryna wear my shoes |
You tryna wear my clothes |
You tryna be like me, |
I’m tryna be like you bro, |
What I’m really tryna say |
You got to keep it all real |
You can’t be takin’no deal |
You gotta get you a meal |
See it’s hard out here, |
Peeps’ll end ya career |
See it’s hard out here |
People put you in a wheelchair |
I’m tryna give you a meal |
I’m tryna keep it all real |
See you be fakin’a deal |
So I’ma let ya see how it feel |
Thinkin’ya ballin’this bangin' |
Ya cold and ya hungry in ya sleep, |
You wish that was your life |
So y’all been yappin’for a chiefy |
Ya greedy and fiendin’to be a happy? |
sa-super chi? |
But you don’t think it because there’s plenty |
of dues to be paid, up in this industry, |
Wanna come in outta nowhere bitch |
I kick you on the streets then run in yo ear |
And yet you end up wid that set that you claim |
To requilinquish? |
your master start, playa, |
I can’t play yo album mack, |
And everybody can’t be on the same thing |
And everybody can’t be a known rapper |
Know what I tell ya exactly |
In the ghetto we got ghetto stars |
Riding in a steamed up car |
Lex, wid them tinted windows |
Pushing down the Boulevard |
In the mouth you see the grill |
You face a playa cause he real |
Not because he roll and smoke |
Or cut some deals, for the bills |
Plus I’m tryna stack some G’s |
Pushing weight like quarter kis |
Hey let me ride in that Lexus truck? |
Freak you betta hit your knees |
Never will I save a broad |
Gangsta playas comin’hard |
Chickenheads get out my car |
I’m leavin’frantic in the park |
Y’all hatas ain’t no killas |
Y’all hatas be hoes |
Cause neither one is ridin’down blastin |
Wid hugs and vogues |
Them boys tryna play the hard role |
They get a head hole |
Them boys shoulda played the smart role |
And kept they ass closed |
Instead ah sayin', what they saw |
What I did, and who I did it to Who else is in on it? |
Who else you told? |
I’m yellow paging 'em too |
I had it up to here |
I’m killin’this bullshit |
Y’all fingers on triggers |
And all them niggas on bullshit |
So you wanna be ah, |
Playa just like me ah, |
Ridin’on tortillahs, |
Choppin’up a ki ah, |
Project dodgin’lizos, |
Glocka in my drizaws, |
Optimal after mo never do we pissoz, |
Do you have a hizap?, |
To unload a trigga, |
Crushin’on ya paper, |
Thinkin’youse a faker, |
Now you got to do 'em |
Or get played for a sucka, |
Handle that use that gat |
Or live like a clucka |