Just show a little flesh Let me see a little flesh (mami, mami) Just show a little flesh Let me see a little flesh (mami, mami) Just show a little flesh Let me see a little flesh
I’m so hood and I cant change Rip blocks from Venice All the way to Fullton to Saint James LA to BK Young Rome and I’m serious Born hustler more clever then my nemesis Pop bottles like I’m Michael Jordon in the 90’s Six ring all I do is big things Fall sickin My taste Big ass, small waist Flawless face Really don’t matter the race Cause we all black as soon as the lights go out If the head good I might show out If its right I’m tight like a feen When dis pipe blow out The fifth ward Let a psycho out Young Rome like a redneck with his rifle out What’s that glow, mami ice no doubt Rhinestone never We have conference calls with Jacob Been like this ever since I got my cake up Pick up the dirt off the concrete and shake up Been caring my timbs since B2K break up I’m like Patton with no Shaq, Kobe the mailman One word that don’t compete in my brains is failing man
Mami show a little flesh ,let me see you ma Put a little Cris on tits, rub it in ya ma Let your boyfriend go he’s a chi-chi man Put a little Cris on tits, rub it in ya ma
We bag more then broads We bag cities You can have those hood rats with those t-bag tities Rome gotta like him I’m slappin these dudes silly Rip the nerve out your body that don’t feel me I rock the party like Bizzy B in his prime I’m cool as an AC I’m not Busta Rhymes No disrespect but I’m smooth as a Jazz artist But live as the Roots Homey I’m beyond the hottest I’m not a star I’m the sun Not #2 I am the 1 I am not a rose I am the gun And I spit for the half niggas sleep on cots Started from nothing Dreaming of boats and yachts Man I use to dream a lot but then I stop sleepin Got on my grizzle and kept bizzy Got my mind right, money right Never tricked Chicks mad cause i’m tight Cheap as a birds language I aint the one mami
Mami show a little flesh ,let me see you ma Put a little Cris on tits, rub it in ya ma Let your boyfriend go he’s a chi-chi man Put a little Cris on tits, rub it in ya ma
Man I done seen it all Niggas clapped up over brick shoot outs With po-po, pepper stray, bully sticks Broads impressed with this willy shit Think willy’s a trick? Have Diddy sippin on Cris on some silly shit I don’t drink from yellow bottles I like my liquor brown as just jo Hold a grudge no I erase enemy’s like Bubba fat Take stars to ball Clap like the grammy awards Down hits, seven up Spit hit, seven up Missed seven enough Shredem up Setem up, wetem up Shock wont letem up Hittem twice more cause he aint dead enough Call me iron man Think I’m sexy now You should see me in my boxer You think my flow is obnoxious I got old donuts in my refrigerator Harder then you You niggas know how we do What bitch!!!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
