Lyrics Burnin Up - Young Jeezy, Slick Pulla

Burnin Up

Give me the whole bag
I ain’t trippin' on a push
In a world of street niggas
Got more money than George Bush
So nigga I understand 'em
I ain’t never seen the leader of our nation in a Phantom
That’s why I spit that real shit, real niggas can ride to
G’s and the street niggas like to get high to
Spent a grip round my neck, nigga just because
So in the words of Kink B, nigga, stall my balls
Got that crazy cash
That insane money
Fall off in Magic City, make it rain money
Count all night, co-caine money
That do whatcha gotta do, I ain’t ashamed money
You burnin' up, daddy
And I ain’t never gone stop
Gotta a hunnit thou- sittin in the parkin' lot
I paid hella dues
That’s why that bitch sittin' on some chrome tennis shoes
And it’s a show stopper
Cuz we shop at 404, not Foot Locker
And yeah nigga, that’s real
Now was ya man doin' that before his deal?
You burnin' up daddy, ya too hot
Them other niggas wanna get what ya got
You burnin' up daddy, ya too hot
Them other niggas wanna get what ya got
You like this daddy, you like that?
(Now break it down for me)
You like this daddy, you like that?
(Now break it down for me)
You like this daddy, you like that?
(Now break it down for me)
You like this daddy, you like that?
(Now break it down for me)
Got million dollar plans, but I ain’t Ted DiBiase
Sneeze on ya with the snub nose to get ya off me
We make bread like a mint, nigga
United Streets Dopeboys in this bitch, nigga
We pull broads off the benches, turn 'em to some starters
We pop choppers that’ll spray ya patna like Binaca
We big talkers cuz we live it, this is more than rappin'
My mack furs got me sittin like a carriage wagon
So when we come through, clean the slate
G’d up, my feet clickin' with my Bathing Apes
And we can get this shit crackin'
Mob through the smoke chokin' 'thrax nigga, What’s Hatnin?
Raw the truth, Dwyane Wade of the street nigga
Florida Marlin, but I stay packin' Heat nigga
And the man mouth glow like a bottle of Cris'
Lemme hear ya, shawty know he got a hell of a wrist
Came through, Chevy lookin' like a Big Wheel
Banana guts, sittin' high up on them big wheels
And the trunk sound like the band at FAMU
I’m lookin' down on them clowns on them 22s
Shawty rock game sorta like I’m Barney Rubble
So many colors in my charm, look like Fruity Pebbles
Respect the shield, USDA, yeah we came thru
We gettin' money while you niggas ain’t countin' clues