. That we blow out our nose after a Star Wars joke. We got style. Tape on our glasses, zits on our faces and hair on our asses. Shiny shoes, belt buckles and pocket
to Organized, 'cuz they raised me I'm also down with La Face 'cuz L.A. Reid, yeah, he pays me And it's cool yeah, it's real cool, gettin' paid fat pockets
Lock a nigga up for life and say fuck you Most of ya'll ain't make it pass the 12th grade That's why you making minimum wage or slanging rocks for chump
true to Organized, cuz they raised me I'm also down with LaFace cuz L.A. Reid, yeah, he pays me And it's cool Yeah, it's real cool, gettin paid fat pockets
ll cant stand me! When I'm at school I make good grades Ya know I'm Sucka Free and we all playa made Chop chop twist twist I got rocks on my wrist I'ma
[Verse 1] I never got a yo when my pockets were low But now I'm makin' dough it's all hello, hello Since I got to dunkin' these motherfuckers I be duckin
with a plastic sack I turned my forty into eighty and that was my profit I'm keepin' my rocks in the house and not in my pocket Sister, Jackie in the
craves the knowledge, my pockets crave the cash My mouth craves the brew and my Johnson craves the ass Who's on blast? Tha Liks, baby, don't twist it Just rock
switches, middle finger for the police, nigga with an attitude, I will not let it die, four fingers up, two twisted for the westside. x2 (chorus) I used dribble the rock
roll. If ya try me, coroner gon wrap you, up like an egg roll. CHORUS Third Verse: Bricks, all white bricks. Corner-boy I prolly sold more rocks than a rock
corner) Got a bop like this Can't wear skinny jeans ?cause my knots don't fit No one on the corner got a pocket like this So I rock Roc jeans ?cause
on the corner gotta bop like this can't wear skinny jeans cuz my knots don't fit No one on the corner gotta pocket like this so I rock Roc jeans cuz
corner) Got a bop like this Can't wear skinny jeans 'cause my knots don't fit No one on the corner got a pocket like this So I rock Roc jeans 'cause
this Now picture that Defeat rhymes never that Son son you brave You ain't a man cause you got a little something to shade I've been a thug since the sixth grade Rockin
sneaker pimps Politics of them sneaker pimps Politics of them sneaker pimps Politics of them sneaker pimps Been paid since the 8th grade 11th grader, pop the champagne 12th grade
sin to uplift a california living but i'd rear cos err i remember as a tot mr ogs skank you motherfuckars with the glocks and now the rocks is in my pockets
nervous but it's time to dance with night strangers Top rap don, 'cause Daddy-O got me the dice game It's reg or not, pockets love Trump Donald Pack
?ll leave the show and run into two men in funny hats They?ll beat the fuck outta you, take your wallet out your back pocket After that you?ll swell up