[Intro] Hey yo, dogs, for real? I'm yo' man but you got the address up Cuz now you got chicks talk' "What the fuck" "What the fuck", "what the fuck"
[Mase] 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 ain't no problem here (Come on come on come on) C'mon I ain't wit that man (Yeah, what, what) Just throw my B back on
Yo, yo, yo You know my mission ain't 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 ain't nothin' sweet I took a year off to let the young nigga's 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, it's summertime All Out tattoo's over wife beaters Get mail Branson, never buy reefer Bentley five seater, it's 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 I'm on nigga one Talk to me
[1 - Total] If you don't fuck with me Like I don't fuck with you It ain't much for us to talk about
Cuz you don't fuck with me (Yo, yo, yo, yo) And you know I don't fuck with you So all I can say (uh uh) Is stay out my way
[Mase] Don't 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 Ain't nuttin' between you and me And on the real, nuttin' you could do wit me I got cash that'll fund your leave You'll 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 war's on, put your gloves and your Gore's on Teflon hard hat nigga, put it all on Beef no more that's what other nigga's 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 I'm from a town where kids could pop up Little punks in garbage bags, body all chopped up I'll come and run your block, knowin' you got popped up Arms are rocked up, Bentley wit' the top up Uh, you don't stop, come on
[Repeat 1 while:] What, what, what Yeah yeah yeah what what what You don't like me nigga? (What the fuck?) You wanna fight me nigga? (Huh? huh?) Stop frontin' nigga (You frontin' nigga) Uh
[Mase] Yo, one, two, three, four Everybody on the floor You see grams, I'mma see craters By the time you see land I'mma see acres Drop another CD just to see paper And before you see me you'll 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 gun's out playa, there'll 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 WhatTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
