Hey yo, dogs, for real?
Im yo man but you got the address up
Cuz now you got chicks talk "What the fuck"
"What the fuck", "what the fuck"
You know somebody swung on me & cut me?
(Come on come on come on)
You know somebody pulled a gun on me or robbed me?
(Come on come on come on)
Is they stoppin my money? (Hell no)
(Come on come on come on)
Then it aint no problem here
(Come on come on come on)
Cmon I aint wit that man
(Yeah, what, what)
Just throw my B back on
Yo, yo, yo
You know my mission aint complete
Till I hit the city with a 600 Jeep
Hardest nigga from All Out you wanna meet
Hash in the dash with heat under the seat
Chased Kate 52 states straight
But still aint nothin sweet
I took a year off to let the young niggas eat
Everybody wit me want bucks
Walk around platinum linked up
With money like Brink trucks
Shit get too hot? Puff, put the minks up
Come back in the summertime like fuck it, its summertime
All Out tattoos over wife beaters
Get mail Branson, never buy reefer
Bentley five seater, its all for real
First rapper to close down a mall with a mil
The clothes, the hoes, the cars that flaunt
Plus the money so Im on nigga one
Talk to me
If you dont fuck with me
Like I dont fuck with you
It aint much for us to talk about
Cuz you dont fuck with me (Yo, yo, yo, yo)
And you know I dont fuck with you
So all I can say (uh uh)
Is stay out my way
Dont take much to wake up, taped up
Fuck the district, I live in Jacob
Hit a nigga, bitch nigga, kiss and made up
See me without Puff, try to get your weight up, uh
Aint nuttin between you and me
And on the real, nuttin you could do wit me
I got cash thatll fund your leave
Youll pull that hoodie over your head
And put five in your Ceasar
Doubt me now and die a believer
Run and catch bullets like a wide receiver
When the wars on, put your gloves and your Gores on
Teflon hard hat nigga, put it all on
Beef no more thats what other niggas for
I got a fam that love to go to war
Love to get locked up, love pickin the odds up
Love not comin home, love to be boxed up
Im from a town where kids could pop up
Little punks in garbage bags, body all chopped up
Ill come and run your block, knowin you got popped up
Arms are rocked up, Bentley wit the top up
Uh, you dont stop, come on
What, what, what
Yeah yeah yeah what what what
You dont like me nigga? (What the fuck?)
You wanna fight me nigga? (Huh? huh?)
Stop frontin nigga (You frontin nigga)
Uh
Yo, one, two, three, four
Everybody on the floor
You see grams, Imma see craters
By the time you see land Imma see acres
Drop another CD just to see paper
And before you see me youll see the maker
All I see is more chances, more advances
More houses, no spouses, more beaches
Wild thugs around me and no leechin
When they guns out playa, therell be no reachin
Ballin in Dirty South wit no creases
And all I see is more F-in iced out Jesus pieces
The rock over Sean John fleeces
You never love the money like we love it
Pay the chick sucka, and let her teeth touch it
All Out
Bad Boy forever
The Movement
What
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