we shovlin' snow the hood is all great
he know where to go so we pushing off weight
we all good with the hoes and the hood
and we stash in the house like a pimp should
fly boy nigga i should have wings on my back
you never seen none of that
i'm cheating on my girlfriend
how you gon' tell me about me?
curren$y way back in the g
back when pimp c may pump the party
and soulja slim laced up his first pair of reece
i got a fashion for flare
i got a stain on my birdmans but i don't care
i fuck with baby money and get a hundred more pair
young money we connected and respected everywhere
but i'm just tryna' to be cool
and see if i can get decisions flew in from peru
now shorty when this package come let me put it by you
standin' in my d-boy stance is all gravy
probably see me ridin' in my sky-blue mercedes
i got the seat laid back and my pimp posture
she doin' the speed limit while i'm eating shrimp pasta
two hands on the wheel with the thick glasses
cops pull us over probably think she take classes
but she don't go to community college
put the work on the scale without breaking the nails
plus she likes to cook that good crack
see to me she a diamond but to you she a hood rat
see that's my bitch and i'm her nigga
paper plates 'til the money is bigger
good mommies put your ones up
and when the feds come put the guns up
i know them bitch niggas from way back
when i was in the project selling crack
with two macs and the 'lac laid back
gettin' paper like a nigga supposed to
we hear you niggas talking fly shit
young money cash money ain't gon' ride a bitch
and make us flat all your tires quick
and grab the hammer cockin' straight between your eyes
we flippin' work through the airport
i got my ho holdin' dope in her asshole
we got the streets poppin'
homie got the institution
and i ain't done whole head niggas
and we be poppin' that monster cart
'cuz when the gag got it poppin'
some niggas go to droppin' nigga
pimp let me get that plaque
got a million in the house
i told hardware something up or coffin jump
and then you be home to beast on
them lil niggas playin' with no clothes
i kill them all put on a jacket 'cuz that's cold
my old rollie hands to the froze
when no tick tack i'm getting money run the glock boy
and if you trippin' she bitch 'bout me
key-sellin' like the naval base
i got woofers in this place to bang
i got white parts of haze so kick some soul 1988