h.h.e.h.
Singer:beanie sigel
run to the fridge and pop that other bottle of cris' homey
i'm off the weed but i'm back on my juice nigga
pour me up an ounce and a couple of th epurps
as i skate through the city in that black cuatro
you fake willies frontin like you got dough until i prove 'em it's not so
i shine like a brand new penny from that franklin mint
it don't make no cents/sense
but to drive and make dollars
your pockets flat like tires
your money still all slow like new drivers
i pop more than the collar
you niggaz poppin cheap-ass bottles of moet
that little chick on your arm be long gone
when she recognize a real don
i'm in the club in the cut sippin on aged grapes
laughin at them brolic car thieves
in their slim-ass jeans and bath' apes
halfway out of the closet
what the fuck is that? you niggaz need to be slapped
whoever co-signed bein a sucker wasn't stacked
you see if real niggaz respect it
that's why this bullshit keep progressin
i'm here to teach you a lesson like krs'n