Okay bitch, you do the wop Well bitch, I do the guap Okay man, you do the drop Well man, I do the yacht You pull up in parking lots I pull up the dock
poppin the heat I don't know nothin 'bout setteling no beef in the streets Nah, I don't know nothin 'bout baggin the grams I ain't never had no spot or went hand to hand
the heat I don't know nothin' 'bout sellin' no beef in the streets Nah, I don't know nothin' 'bout baggin' the grams I ain't never had no spot or went hand to hand
nothin' 'bout poppin' the heat I don't know nothin' 'bout sellin' no beef in the street Nah, I don't know nothin' 'bout baggin' the grams I ain't never had no spot or went hand to hand
be broke My man went to Moorehouse and had a strong flow So I had him pitchin' in Atlanta like John Smoltz Makin' money make the world go round When it stack up
is hot than a m*** But we cold chillin? in the Brick City So kick back, light some b*** Put your hands on a big fat greasy a*** And turn the music up
roasted duck? With a mean street team outside posted up Toasted up, ready to roast a duck, when I say street team I don't mean niggaz that put posters up
Where my doggz at? Where my doggz at? Where my doggz at? Where my doggz at? Who them niggas that'll roll up to your front door Hand on the pump, doggz
jump up It's Elmer Fudd with the shotty pump, who want duck? Ride in my hoop tie, back, slumped up Five niggaz with me, strap, pumped up Dump Forrest
don't care Once you get a grip If I have to, I'll grab my fifth And throw shit up, put your hands in the air I'm a liiiiiiiiiiiiive wiiiiiiiiiiire! (Gilla
up in da house Yo Crew up in da house Yo Yo Crew up in da house We got Crew up in da house We got da mad Maaad Crew up in da house WKYA Where all
Ya, got my hand in my pocket and my finger on the trigger My squad is gettin' big and my squad is gettin' bigger Some niggaz got style, some niggaz got taste Deaf squad
watchin' for Get off my dick for what you don't got Plus you probably never licked a shot on your block Walkin' to my car witcha nine out the holster Put your hands
from up here to Urbantown I sweat dark, when I get off my shit cock Yo, yo, yo, that's, that's E and them Yo, word up? Yo, what's going on? Yo, chill
[Incomprehensible] Still walkin' down the streets with my hand on my black tec My brain is high like New York, New Jersey do car thefts I'm high, when
the fuck up And leave the one you wit then take off of Usher That's right, six double O with chrome pipes U.S. Marshals out to pen us up like snipes
without bolts, screws and nuts Pussy tight Jiffy Lube it up, Doc came up, hoes use to hang up Now my arm close hang up, my crew is deeper than Karl
screw D Your beef in small claims court, Judge Judy When you and I meet up, the fight heat up Bloody up ya wife beater then light weed up [Chorus] [