Lyrics Burning It Up - Work Out Music

Burning It Up

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, hide yo kids, hide yo wife
We raping everybody out here, you know what I’m saying?
Shmang, shmang, pow, pow, yo, yo
Back with the better flow, live the life you’ll never know
Got this model, bent one time, that’s what I call a centrefold
Bitches at my shows, I replays on them, my Pick-n-Rolls
They love the show nigga that’s got it popping
Like sausage on a kitchen stove, woah
I’m doing everything they wish they did
I’m bringing home the bacon like I skinned a pig
Put my CD on your christmas list
These niggas is trash, they should wear a bag like Missy did
I ain’t playing no more, I do everything that I say
And I don’t go to the club, unless a nigga 'bout to get paid
I’m pulling up in all black, with my shades on like I’m Blade
There’s a lot of fish in the sea, I keep all of mine in the tank
Twenty-three making more money than your mother
Took some uppers
Now I’m bouncing 'round the club, just like I’m Flubber
And I travel like a trucker, all my shows is doing numbers
I been good for 'bout four years, Oklahoma City Thunder
And that shit make you feel good
And that shit make you feel good
And that shit make you feel good
But if it don’t, I got some other shit that still could
Back with the hottest sauce, looking like a fucking boss
Making money, yours is slimming down, we call that Ricky Ross
Lyrics stuck in everybody mouth, they need dental floss
Wanna shake my hand, I’ll leave you hanging, like a fricking cross
Yeah, I got the game on pad lock
Gummy bears all on my calves, they still black socks
I got a drunk cartoon to be my mascot
We been flipping bitches, like a motherfucking laptop
I ain’t tripping no more, I got everything that I need
I got bottles all in my room, I got beer pong and weed
I got white twins in my phone, save them «Thing 1» and «Thing 2»
They not tryna tie my down, them hoes don’t even wear shoes
Twenty three making more money than your father
Watch me prosper, get these girls a spanking, like an angry toddler
I got lipstick on my collar, dressed in black, just like a robber
Boy, I’m fly like Harry Potter, I make hits just like The Dotters