Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Do It Like Us , by - Wu-BlockRelease date: 26.11.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Do It Like Us |
| Yeah, Wu-Block, aiyo, Ghost, aiyo, Chef |
| Clip up, nigga! |
| I drop fifty on the order, more hundred on the whip |
| Five on the Louis luggage, ten on the trip |
| Sour when I land a little, something for the hip |
| Fiji or Roset, and I don’t even take a sip |
| Nah, they don’t do it like we do |
| Nah, they don’t do it like us |
| Nah, they don’t do it like we do |
| Nah, they don’t do it like us |
| Yeah, Donnie laughing at you sore losers |
| Underdogs hot, 2011 Hoosiers |
| That’s cruisers that’s jumped off from back flipping pussies |
| Splash, I get all them clothes smelling cushy |
| Shades on, Aviator lens |
| Mami sitting in my Benz, like she Liz Claiborne |
| That you already rolled, now it’s hella flame, on |
| Little model bitch, had to get game, on |
| Yeah, the hood say I’m on fire |
| Donnie on the street like a Good Year, tire |
| Still look the same and that’s last years, flyer |
| Just more money, but way more, higher |
| Aiyo, Benz and grams being torn from the rubber bands |
| Latifah shorts, tennis courts in the summer mans' |
| Skydiving in Fiji Islands with a sweet view |
| Balley parachutes, the water is deep blue |
| Micro felt goggles, Brazil models, keep a mouth full |
| While I’m hitting they back tonsils |
| Me and Sheek is Selleck and George Clooney |
| A Russian chef with scars on his chest, the boats mad roomy |
| Only niggas that move good pots to the rasta |
| Switzerland, we flying in vet to examine the watches |
| And we ain’t gotta throw ice on 'em, we count one for Kiss |
| Styles, Rae and Cap, L and Mike and 'em |
| Aiyo, two hundred thousand in dust paper |
| Let a bullet thrust, take your Jacob, I’m always in make-up |
| Under your trucks, Scottish ruger, jump suiter |
| Rad little slut, one white killa with bucks on |
| Wearing jewelry, robbing jewelry, peep out the coats |
| I switch pockets then pull out the scope |
| Niggas is dice, ya’ll famous for the legendary clarks |
| Lamping in Junior’s, eating squid, me and Starks |
| Chatting quiet, no talking, just finger jabbing |
| Sheepskins grey, beneath the feet, crisp balley |
| D&C Kangols, white Russian gazelles |
| Keep a track on the sickest bat like Modell’s |