[Chorus] Wake up early, trapping late Serving niggas by the gates Shooting dice, I let em' skate Six and eight, they running mates Getting money I'ma Baghdad These bitches, they Kuwait Gave my workers four pounds, told 'em bring me 98 Matching Fubu with the Bape, that was back in '98 20 dollars for the drank, that was back in '98 Starchy jeans and Screw Tapes, that was back in '98 Got a hundred round drum, hit your ass with 98
[Verse 1: Maxo Kream] Blowing O Dogs like Larenz Tate Running your mouth like Crest Colgate Run in your house, if I want I'm a take Take everything but the sink and fishtank My dick ain't free, I'ma make a bitch pay Shoot a nigga up with the Mac 90k Nintendo 64, we don't play 2k Prank call phone, Motorola two-ways 25 lighters, got a pocket full of stone Don't call my phone if you not a yellow-bone I'm an H-town nigga, so I need extra dome Keep a deuce of the screw, double cup, styrofoam Drop a lot of Molly 'cause I get it by the key For the sherm heads, got the PCP My boys goin' pop, I ain't talkin' Backstreet My guns goin' pop and the bullets in sync Stay comin' down, always Po'd up Blowing Orange OJ, oh say Bronc-o Drop a four with a bar in a p. soda Jamming on a grey tape, got me screwed up Round '98, I was seven 7 or 8 Bad then a bitch I was in the second grade Had a southside fade with four ways Running outside fucking up my new J's Right around the same time, I done sold my first bike Sitting on the porch chillin' in the front yard Go hard or go home, everyday had to fight Woop a nigga ass for some Pokemon cards WWF x PAC went hard Running round school telling my teacher to suck it Momma used to woop my ass real hard Act a damn fool when I'm out in public
[Chorus] Wake up early, trapping late Serving niggas by the gates Shooting dice, I let em' skate Six and eight, they running mates Getting money I'ma Baghdad These bitches, they Kuwait Gave my workers four pounds, told 'em bring me 98 Matching Fubu with the Bape, that was back in '98 20 dollars for the drank, that was back in '98 Starchy jeans and Screw Tapes, that was back in '98 Got a hundred round drum, hit your ass with 98
[Verse 2: Joey Bada$$] Off a bad cop, and his rag top Fuck a good cop, I've never met one Stay tipsy like J-Kwon Make the hood hop, I drop napalms Stay calm I drop 8 bombs But you feel that thump when that bass goin' Every past sales we face thump, get so high, nigga face numb My time money, never waste none Shine coming, don't get sonned The stakes is high, I got three supplies Grill motherfucker till he well done Get deep Fried, they sat Louis Know my nigga Lex stay with the toolie Flip a nigga ta-rantualas, turn rat niggas to ratatouille Crooklyn nigga, know I had to do it New York back, you know I had to prove it Money is my slang, nigga, y'all niggas don't speak it fluent Fact y'all niggas can't speak at all One more word I'ma fucking lose it Got a king size bed, don't sleep at all So when your queen give it up, get the pussy bruised Uh, her mouth stays glued to my dick and balls I bust her jaw, until it hit the door But don't trip nigga, it's still yours Soon as I get to score, that's when you get the call It's like a chain reaction, you fuck up, she back for more
[Chorus] Wake up early, trapping late Serving niggas by the gates Shooting dice, I let em' skate Six and eight, they running mates Getting money I'ma Baghdad These bitches, they Kuwait Gave my workers four pounds, told 'em bring me 98 Matching Fubu with the Bape, that was back in '98 20 dollars for the drank, that was back in '98 Starchy jeans and Screw Tapes, that was back in '98 Got a hundred round drum, hit your ass with 98
[Outro Loop]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
