Cohiba - Lyrics - Mario Vazquez - Mario Vazquez

Title: Cohiba
Album: Mario Vazquez
Artist: Mario Vazquez
Composer(s): Scott Storch, Sean Garrett

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Lyric:
[Foreign content]

I'm a boss so I hit her with the little head game
I can tell she like to taste sweet things
First thing I met her for sense a switch go
Damn I been gone too long

She know what the business was
I told her to get at it, took the lead promo static
Puerto Rican mix sweet tone
Only promise she was with this cat standing 6'4"

She said I ride my own, check, go away, check
Don't worry 'bout it, your just another pay, check
She said I ain't gotta ask anything I want yet
I said what that's called when you move it like that

She kept reiterating she had a thing for sex
A man and another man she tried, yet
So I pulled back put it up another drink
She like tell me what you think, gotta just take another puff

She wanna smoke cohiba
You gotta work for that, gotta work for that
Can I smoke your cohiba
You gotta work for that, gotta work for that

She wanna smoke my cohiba
You gotta work for that, gotta work for that
Can I smoke your cohiba
You gotta work for that, gotta work for that

She told me not to think how could I hesitate
Who would love the chance just to give it to me
I knew it, the things I would do to her
But I keep thinking me him and her

But the obvious told me believe her
Heard that she giving me the fever
Slow up ma and kick back
While I think about what I'm gon' do with that

She said I ride my own, check, go away, check
Don't worry about it, your just another pay, check
She said I ain't gotta ask anything I want yet
I said what that's called when you move it like that

She kept reiterating, she had a thing for
A man and another man she tried
So I pulled back put it up another drink
She like tell me what you think, got to just take another puff

She wanna smoke cohiba
You gotta work for that, gotta work for that
Can I smoke your cohiba
You gotta work for that, gotta work for that

She wanna smoke my cohiba
You gotta work for that, gotta work for that
Can I smoke your cohiba
You gotta work for that, gotta work for that

[Foreign content]

You wanna smoke my, smoke my, who else but good crack now
Want a made back with a hat down
Got money and we don't know how to act now
All talk puff this 'til we pass out

Man he so crazy and he my baby
And he gon' pay me now
He sound crazy 'cause he ain't got paying
And you ain't staying now

Cash talk with a project
Fat in a palm and it got knocked
'Cause she palm from the Bronx with the hardest lift
Yeah, definitely for the sonic kick

She wanna smoke cohiba
You gotta work for that, gotta work for that
Can I smoke your cohiba
You gotta work for that, gotta work for that

She wanna smoke my cohiba
You gotta work for that, gotta work for that
Can I smoke your cohiba
You gotta work for that, gotta work for that

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Wheres Your Money - Lyrics - Busta Rhymes

Title: Wheres Your Money
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): Chad Hugo, Russell Jones, Pharrell Williams

Lyric:
Yo, all my bitches that make money
Throw ya motherfuckin' hands in the air
'Cuz it's all about the money
Money rules the world
I take over all pussy with money

All cars get tooken over 'cuz of money, baby
All businesses, baby, it's all about the money
To all my niggaz that bustin' shots for money, right now
Bust shots, bust shots for the money, now

Where's your money?
Where's your money?
Where's your money?
Throw ya motherfuckin' hands in the air
Where's your money?

The Brooklyn borough king, your bitch to me is everything
Sent me to Jersey, trapped off the parascene
Or Penelope Pitstop
You can't duplicate the picture or record this hip hop

My owl's are tryna crust up the ziplock
Dime pieces in high heels and flip flops
Real playas with the Zenty's wristwatch
Outside of clubs is backed up in gridlock

Three bouncers the size of sasquatch
Plus whips that will make your eyes pop
Hot burns that burn faster than matches
Dirt is only out to catch Vicks

B-boys on the back on some rap shit
Fake industry heads sweatin' in the guest list
I'm on the spot with a bottle of fresh Cris
Lay up on the table, arm around the best chick
It's all about the money

Hey, I'm O.D.B., let me know where's your money
Next time you see me, let me know where's your money
Baby, I just got home, let me know where's your money
We got to feed these kids, baby, let me know where's your money

In a fly tailor made shit, cookin' a blunt
Got the Phantom parked crooked out in the front
Rowin', gun totin', Sonny Chiba niggaz we large
Caymen Island style, suckin' on Cohiba cigars

The way we stack cake, you know I know it's makin' you sick
Watch dough with diplomats from other countries and shit
Now let me show you why we walk with a swagger
Money over flowin', spendin' like it don't even matter

Money do a lotta shit, money make me more bread
But money take a nigga life, put a price on they head
Think you nicer than the dreads, snitches fight with the Feds
Keep it cool, while I put all of the hype on the bed

Bitch, ever since my cake got a little bigger
Fuck with JP Morgan, Merryl Lynch and them niggaz
Fuck it, call it what you wanna call it, nigga, we sinners
Throw my money at ten thousand dollar tables for dinners

Now it's a Busta Bus, now, nigga, let me know where's your money
Every time you see me, let me know where's your money
You can give me all your money, let me know where's your money
When it's the first of the month, nigga
Let me know where's your money

For the carat D class next to my middle finger
When I see my own reflection, diamond frost the mirror
Diamonds as cold as ice, frost bite like winter
Floss fitters, three quarter four length chinchillas

You wish you knew the way, the kid'll quiet dough is a mystery
Niggaz bread stack longer than American History
Now peep the way we runnin' through y'all, it's funny
Fuck around get you murked with my 'Woo-Hah' money

Lay you down in the dirt, let me school y'all dummies
Hit the town with the work like crack heads, they love me
Shit to call my cake disrespectful, bitch, holla
A lot of acres with a pet alligator named Dollar

Bust it, y'all niggaz know that I'm the most, so just stop it
I cop cribs and stash cake and keepin' money in wallets
Niggaz money smaller than a bar of Whatchamacallits
Money hungry like Sudan, when my paper stay brolic, listen

Hey, I'm O.D.B., let me know where's your money
It's a Busta Bust now, nigga, let me know where's your money
Next time you see me, let me know where's your money
'Fore I stick ya ass up, nigga, let me know where's your money

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5f9fd22571e1a9d537061410264e991f

What Now - Lyrics - You Can't See Me - John Cena

Title: What Now
Album: You Can't See Me
Artist: John Cena
Composer(s): John Cena, Marc Predka

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Lyric:
I will get by
Touch the sky, time to fly 'til we die

For what it's worth I see the purpose of life
I see below the surface and the version that you know
And hold is not right, man, I oughta just laugh
The only darkness ahead of me's the shadow I cast in my path
(What's that?)
That's the weight of my craft
I breathe easy and let my chest slowly contract
And write rhymes to inform baby not to uplift
If you wanna make it all, you gotta persist
(Yo, put me on)

Yeah, all that talk's a waste
'Cuz I can read a man's thoughts by the way the lines cross his face
Hold five, everything live
And I vibe, ain't nobody thought this day would arrive
But I balance my talents with a hope and a drive
And ride beats dog, that's where my focus derive
And keep notepads and vocab, that's my guide
And if I got legit beef, I don't let it slide, what now

I will get by
Touch the sky, time to fly 'til we die

My brain is impossible to thinkin' philosophical
Hustle in my blood, that's the only thing that's logical
The only thing I gotta do to stay on or stay strong
I ain't stoppin' 'til I own the field that y'all play on
Desperado, eyes like a bird of prey
Cold soldier, crack snap your vertebrae
No heater, flow sweeter than Cohiba
Cinnamon dip, spice ride in the cinnamon whip

Quite wide on the Benjamin Clip
Might slide but we ain't gonna slip, no way
If the meek shall inherit the earth, guess what?
Y'all get the globe if they measure in lyrical worth
Trademarc flow first, make the mental work
Fuck a verse, I rearrange your dental work
And when it pop off, we not soft
We like the Bentleys, y'all just the Chrysler knockoffs

I will get by
Touch the sky, time to fly 'til we die

But that's life, yeah, you hearin' me right
It's like I had to find the black of night
Come back to life with master insight that shine bright
I'm always learnin'
My burden, to blow up gifts like this, I must endure the slow burnin'
It's sort of strange, my philosophy's changed
I take chances, jump before the water's in range
And never wait for safe answers so if all that remains
Is lookin' back at my life it never seems like I wasted glances

Man, it's all a big game, that's why it doesn't mean a thing
That I get money and fame, it's all the same
If you call me Trademarc or if you know my real name
Marc Predka ain't attached to ego
He's a hero for the average people, a blessing
Who transcends the essence of a poet with a street flow
It's not lip service, I don't speak to hear myself talk
And I don't wanna be a teacher; I'm grateful for all I've been taught

I will get by
Touch the sky, time to fly 'til we die

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Stay Cool - Lyrics - The Roots

Title: Stay Cool
Artist: The Roots
Composer(s): Tarik L Collins, Y Paterno, Jenkins, P Griffin, Lewi

Lyric:
Bass for your face, highs for your eyes
Don't blink, Black Ink has arrived, all rise
Rudebwoys keep dem thing at your side, be alright
Muh'fuckers Philly we up in here, we all live
I'm puffin this Cohiba mami coolin' her heels
All she ever seem to do is play it cool f'real
She be pushin', pop vessel, and her shoes is ill
But her hand, keep slippin' on the woodgrain wheel

But it's cool, we never slippin' when there's moves to make
Especially when what we talkin' ain't ya usual cake
I pump bass for y'all bathin' apes, to get charged
Nah, I'm not a dealer, I'm a poet at large
We in the wind with the roof back, lettin' the breeze hit us
The bathrobe on with sweatpants and slippers
Comin' to pay a visit to whoever on the hit list
Some of y'all been tryin' for years, you'll never get this fool

Check it out
(Stay cool)
Stay cool daddy
(Stay cool)
Stay cool ma
(Hey, hey)
C'mon
(Stay cool motherfuckers y'all know the rules)
(Hey, stay cool, stay cool)
There it is
(Yeah hah hah, stay cool)

Hip-hop my main bitch, I got a few on the side
The game stitched y'all I'm doin' my job
Go up against enormous odds
Wouldn't break a sweat, money make her bet
Funny son you threat, well I ain't shakin' yet
Twenty-fo'-sev' chillin', tougher than penicillin
From the block where the crooked cops killin' like a villain
Children, in the hood gettin' rocked by they buildings

And brothers, 'cross the board gettin' knocked by the millions
The stress, got me ignitin' the potent marijuana leaf
Tryin' to play it cooler than a polar bear colony
You feel the music know I'm over there probably
Pimpin' on the same system that forever shorted me
I got the soul of a young Sam Cooke when I spit
It make you wanna make a new dance up
It's all to the good shorty 'gwan do that stuff
It's not another sound system rockin' steady as us and it's cool

(Stay cool)
Yeah
(Stay cool)
Stay cool ha
(Hey, hey)
Check it out, and just
(Stay cool motherfuckers y'all know the rules)
Yeah
(Hey, stay cool, stay cool)
(Yeah hah hah, stay cool)

Yeah, when I'm crusin' in my vehicle, the chase harass me
They never ride past me, they really comin' at me right
They wanna know where the drugs guns and cash be
Probably wanna get me to run, so they can blast me
Just, blast me in your box, play my shit
I know it's crowded at the top, 'cause I'm on the tip
And that's as high up at the top, as a brother could get
And how I do it make a lot of muh'fuckers upset

But it's fine, re-gizzlin' I'm back for mine
In case y'all gettin' tired of the same ol' shine
And I'm calm, calculated and perfectly aligned
The way I'm operatin' what is a surgery of rhyme
It's not a thang when I lower the gradient lens frames
I'm cooler than Clyde Stubblefield, drummer for James
Hip-hop is out of Hustleville, comin' for change
I exercise 'til a muscle build, breakin' the chains and I'm cool

Stay cool, stay cool hey, hey
Stay cool motherfuckers y'all know the rules
Hey, stay cool, stay cool
Yeah hah hah, stay cool

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Jealousy - Lyrics - Me Myself & I - Fat Joe

Title: Jealousy
Album: Me Myself & I
Artist: Fat Joe
Composer(s): Joseph Anthony Cartagena, L Coppin, Isaac Hayes

Lyric:
Yo Stevie, [Incomprehensible]
Spill that shit, man, we toastin' right now
All my niggas, put your glasses up in the air right now
We gon' represent our niggas locked down
Our niggas passed away, we miss y'all

Nigga, every time you see me, man, you know you want to be me
And you can't deny the fact that this fat nigga's fly
Went from Sergio to Kenny to movin' them Lamborghinis
Got you sick to your stomach, now you ask yourself why

Nigga, Crack was the first, you seem 'em in Red Monkeys
And I bet you didn't now that they came in my size
Now it's highly controversial, if you'll find me, I'll commerce you
And you know that G-5 the only way that we fly

Now I'm feelin' like Pharrell and Snoop, the world beautiful
Brazilian, Columbian chicks, you know the usual
Them niggaz over there, please send them some bottles
'Cause they lookin' like some haters, I don't really need the problems

'Cause these niggaz here, we love to give ketchup
We bloody up the whole damn room if you let us
And I ain't tryin' to steal, I'm just tryin' to chill
And light up this kush with this hundred dollar bill, nigga

Jealousy, nigga, you'se a grown man
Why you get so jealous, why you take the stand?
Jealousy, why you mad at my bitch
'Cause she wear fly shit and she push nice whips?

Jealousy, I don't owe you, man
I don't know you, man, I never sold you, man
Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy

All these niggaz jealous, please don't be mad
Don't talk to them boys, bring up my past
Don't tell 'em 'bout the Macks that I stash in the grass
And that ten mill' Terror Squad start up cash

I'm a law abidin' citizen, I barely smoke blunts now
We into real estate, we fuckin' with Donald Trump now
When you know who told them boys what
I been rappin' for years, all of a sudden I'm hot

'Cause the only time you see me is probably when I'm on TV
Smokin' the Cohiba on the deck of a yacht
Nigga, you could never be me, though I make it seem easy
Only nigga from the Bronx, though Miami's my block

Now you got us fucked up, homey, we don't rat
We don't talk to them boys, all we do it clap
All we do is spill Crys', got that on tap
Look at all the shit I accomplished, not bad for Crack

Nigga, you'se a grown man
Why you get so jealous, why you take the stand?
Jealousy, why you mad at my bitch
'Cause she wear fly shit and she push nice whips?

Jealousy, I don't owe you, man
I don't know you, man, I never sold you, man
Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy

I'm feelin' like Christ at the Tabernacle, stones are thrown at me
Record labels is hidin', niggas disownin' Joey
And still I throw rocks at tanks
The poor people's champ, go against glocks with shanks

Yeah, I walk the middle of the streets with no bodyguards
Stick up kid, salute the hard body god
My jail niggaz, they love this shit
Yeah, they sharpen up they shanks while they bumpin' this shit

And my niggaz on the table, yeah, they listen to this
Little Coca, little soda, yeah they whippin' that shit
And I know it sounds eerie but my niggaz better hear me
If you speakin' on the phones, it won't be secret to the jury

They hit you wit that RICO, I'm not meanin' PR
I'm talkin' full scale riots, whole lotta triage
And I know you not scared but please be cautious
'Cause these jealous ass niggaz could be walkin' amongst us

Jealousy, nigga, you'se a grown man
Why you get so jealous, why you take the stand?
Jealousy, why you mad at my bitch
'Cause she wear fly shit and she push nice whips

Jealousy, I don't owe you, man
I don't know you, man, I never sold you, man
Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy

To my jail niggaz
To your street memories
I know you can hear me now
For the record we love you, we miss you

Yeah, to all my niggas that passed away
Joe Montana, my sister Lisa
[Incomprehensible] my brothers for life, nigga

Cali, LV, oh my God, jealousy
All 'em jealous ass niggas, man, it's Coka
Jealousy, crack, crack
Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy, jealousy

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Z - Watch Me - Lyrics - Vol. 3... Life and Times of S. Carter - Jay

Title: Z - Watch Me
Album: Vol. 3... Life and Times of S. Carter
Artist: Jay
Composer(s): Irving Lorenzo, Rob Mays, Shawn Carter

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Lyric:
Yeah
Boom boom boom
D R E
Say it with me niggaz, boom boom
And Jay Z
Boom boom boom boom
What the fuck?
Boom boom boom boom
Watch me
Jigga man ya heard boom boom boom
Brooklyn ya heard boom boom booom
Compton
Gotti gotti ya heard
Yo c'mon

You gotta pop that styles, rock that watch dial
See that Benz? Cop that now drop that top down
They gon' kill us anyway them cops uptown
Hit holmes with forty one rounds
Live yo' life, get yo' ice she been with you since day one nigga
Trick on yo' wife spend that dough when in doubt take that trip
She ain't livin' for the moment homey shake that bitch

He that cool he can't take you nowhere then leave that fool
Be that rude if he that cool save for what ball 'til your days is up
This place is fucked all type of AIDS and such
How they make it where you afraid to fuck
They gave us drugs then turned around and investigated us
Life is short then you on life support
So in between it all I'm a say I seen it all, watch me

Place yourself in the shoes of true felons
And tell me you won't ball every chance you get
(Watch me)
At any, chance you hit
(That's right)
We live for the moment
(Yo, watch, watch)
Makes sense don't it now make dollars
(Watch me)
You see me around some cheese
(Watch me)
See me with hustlers around them G's
(Watch me)
Blowin' dro runnin' through pounds of weed
(Watch me)
At the bar baby, round's on me
(Watch me)

Watch me turn somethin' out of nothin' turn platinum from gold
Watch me light the cohiba off the Viking stove
I take an empty bank account fill it with oh's
I take an empty building then I fill it with hoes
Watch me cop that Coupe, shine for the ladies
Have 'em sayin', "Damn I never seen a watch that blue"
And while they still mesmerized I pop that cooch
Shit, law enforcement couldn't stop that dude

Guess who fresh off of 'Volume 2'
Back at you, peep the numbers my album do
They call me champagne hovah, wake up with a hangover
When y'all think the game's over do the same thing over
Still with the same soldiers
Still gettin' brain and it's plain ain't a thang gon' change over
Hop out the truck hand on my cock and nuts
Who got the bank I'm stoppin' it up watch me

Place yourself in the shoes of true felons
And tell me you won't ball every chance you get
(Watch me)
At any, chance you hit, we live for the moment
Makes sense don't it, now make dollars
(Watch me)
You see me around some cheese
(Watch me)
Hangin' with hustlers around them G's
(Watch me)
Blowin' dro runnin' through pounds of weed
(Watch me)
At the bar bitch round's on me
(Watch me)

Yo the watch too rocky, need shades
Continental sittin' on blades, spinnin' like waves
Gun too brocky, behave
Big shot, plus I'm feelin' like Rocky these days
Ice don't melt I could ski through a heatwave
Nights won't help you see Jay, it'll be day
My shit too bright, I rip through mics
Plus I push more powder than crystal light

Chick mad, said I hold my pistol too tight
Get a grip bitch, this how I get through life
I buy out the bar spit Crist' through the mic
See Jigga in the 6 and all the shit you like
See Jigga givin' dick to every bitch you like
I told her it's 'Jay-day and hit you night'
You wanna see me again you gotta get two dice
I got rules I can't hit you twice you heard me
Watch me

Place yourself in the shoes of true felons
And tell me you won't ball every chance you get
(That's right)
At any, chance you hit, we live for the moment
Makes sense don't it, now make dollars
(Watch me)
You see me around some cheese
(Watch me)
See me with hustlers around them G's
(Watch me)
Blowin' dro runnin' through pounds of weed
(Watch me)
At the bar baby round's on me
(Watch me)

(Watch me)
You see me around some cheese
(Watch me)
Hangin' with hustlers around them G's
(Watch me)
Blowin' dro runnin' through pounds of weed
(Watch me)
At the bar bitch, round's on me
(Watch me, watch me)

Jigga, Jigga shit huh
Brooklyn, Brooklyn shit huh
(Compton)
Gotti, gotti shit huh?
(C'mon)
Lil' rob shit huh
(C'mon)
Roc-a-fella shit y'all
(C'mon)
Murder, murder shit y'all
(Watch me)

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33cd23788a7818d78bf1f90128ad1e56

Real Playa Like - Lyrics - From Nothin' to Somethin' - Fabolous

Title: Real Playa Like
Album: From Nothin' to Somethin'
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): Shaffer Smith, Jamal F Jones, John David Jackson

Lyric:
Tryna show you somethin?, shawty
Hey, baby girl, they say the world is a beautiful place, that?s right
I?m tryna help you open your eyes and see that
Different ***, cool ***, real playa like

Hey, shawty, we could do it real playa like
We could go a few places that you say you like
See what it is like, when you be my a-alike?
Girl just lay back, I?ll do it that way you like

Said it?s the flyest thing just the way we swing
Me and you, how we do? We so fly

You need to leave them burgers alone and make a steak upgrade
I?m Fillet Mignon with a tape-up fade
I see things clear through these Marc Jacobs shades
Like the clarity in these jewels that Jacob made

You sleep better knowin? you gon' wake up paid
Hair styled, nails filed, make-up made
We can shock South Beach, shake up Dade
In a droptop Phantom with the Drakov blades

I?ma stop by the barber
You can hit the shops in the harbor
Then get the chops or the lobster
Prime on 12, dinner for dos
We begin with a toast, end with a dose

Of the light green *** rolled in a Cohiba
It?s Sunday, so you know how the Forge is
Weather gorgeous, not a cloud in the sky
We could show the world how to be fly, yes

Hey, shawty, we could do it real playa like
We could go a few places that you say you like
See what it is like, when you be my a-alike?
Girl just lay back, I?ll do it that way you like

Said it?s the flyest thing just the way we swing
Me and you, how we do? We so fly

If you wanna act Hollywood fine
But shawty, let's do it when we sittin? on the hills
Like the Hollywood sign
And every man lies, but not every man flies
Privately to Van Nuys

Range on the runway, driver to pop doors
Straight to Barney?s, somethin? we need to stop for
She like, "It?s early, what we gonna shop for?"
How ?bout green grass breakfast, top floor?

Later on Fred C or Max Fields
Real playa like dress, good black heels
No 'Hanas, we can do Katana's
You, me and ooh-wee, ***

Then slide through Hyde, might include Mood
Maybe go to Area if it?s in the area
The Friday?s young try things my way, hon?
Malibu ride, Highway 1

Nothin? is too much, everythin? you touch
Turns to gold, you make me better
I'm fly as I can be, but you with me
I can?t help but notice, I?m more focus
?Cause you?re the coldest, girl you?re so

Hey shorty, bring the Mayback, we got a long way to go
Just lay back, you had a long day, I know
And they whack, do it the wrong way, I know
I play back but have the song playlin? low

While we 6 deuce and let you fix Goose
In a glass with sum ice, maybe mix juice in
On the way to L.A, well, I could?ve took the heli
But we door more behind wheel

Hampton home, 2 floors for 9 mill?
Real playa like, 2 doors from Seinfeld
White marble, new floors that shine still
And the help keep food store, wine chilled

Hey, we gotta live one day right
Well, how ?bout from Friday to Sunday night
Then back ?fore they notice, back up in Lotus
Let the world know we back and we focused

Hey, shawty, we could do it real playa like, yeah
He could go a few places that you say you like, yeah
See what it is like, when you be my a-alike?
Girl just lay back, I?ll do it that way you like

Said it?s the flyest thing just the way we swing
Me and you, how we do? We so fly

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Hustler Musik - Lyrics - Tha Carter, Vol. 2 - Lil' Wayne

Title: Hustler Musik
Album: Tha Carter, Vol. 2
Artist: Lil' Wayne
Composer(s): Tristan G. Jones, Dwayne Carter

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Lyric:
Goddamn, missed and hit a nigga in his head with dis one
I'ma paint da city red wit dis one
I'm ahead wit dis one
See u fuckin' wit da boys
Who tote toys way before Christmas
No assistance just

That persistence with
That commitment if
I don't get it, somebody gon' die tonight
I know my vibe is tight
And I deserve da throne
And if da kid ain't right
Den let me die in his songs

See I'll be ridin' just
Ridin alone'
Wit my daddy on my mind, like u gotta be kiddin'
How da hell u ain't here 2 see ya prince do his thing?
Sometimes I wanna drop a tear but no emotions from a king

Shant be, so I be who I be, that's me
Dats Weezy F. Baby and
Please say da motherfuckin'
So I be who I be, that's me
Dats Weezy F. Baby and
Please say da motherfuckin'

Baby u gotta kno dat I'm just out here
Doin' what I gotta do 4 me and u and we eatin'
So bitch, how da fuck iz u trippin'?
I'm takin' dese chances

My head 2 da sky
My feet on da ground
My fingas 2 da judge
If da money don't move

Then I won't budge
(Won't budge)
No I won't budge, no Lord

Money iz da motivation
Facin' da avenue
Back touchin' da wall
Got da weed, got da gun

Gotta run when I hear da bird call
Dang, hop in dat thang and merk off
Swerve off
U kno me dey call me Birdman Jr.

Anybody murderer
If Birdman sponsor it
Phantom of da Opera
All black, guap tent, locked in
I can let them shots out
U can't get no shots in

Bullet proof, leave a nigga wit a bullet roof
Shoot ya in ya mouth, Leroy
They call ?em Bullet Tooth
I'm like, what it do, what it do
There's a full court pressure
I'm just going for da 2

If I'm open for da 3
I'ma take it in a second
Even if there's one second
I'ma make it, it's nothin'

I don't take it for granted
I don't take it for nothin'
I take it for what it's worth
To da derf motherfucker
(Yea)

Baby u gotta kno dat I'm just out here
Doin' what I gotta do 4 me and u and we eatin'
So bitch, how da fuck iz u trippin'?
I'm takin' dese chances

My head 2 da sky
My feet on da ground
My fingas 2 da judge
If da money don't move

Then I won't budge
(Won't budge)
No I won't budge, no Lord

I ain't neva killed nobody I promise
And I promise if u try me
He gon' have to rewind dis track
And make me go back
Dat thing a go rrrat
Dat boy will lay flat, so flat

Dat act is wat I perform amongst u hatas
Got Nina in my palm and I'm masturbating
Black Peter Pan, fly till I die, what u sayin'?
Bathin' ape, Eve Saint, Evisu wat I stay in

Got me feelin' like Scarface
Light da Cohiba, streets reply
I look right in the 4 seater, u know I be high
Get right in the 4 seater, top floor of da Four Seasons
4 of dem whores, and they all kno how to cook it up

And look I got some
And only one know how to bag, bitch bundle up
See it's a cold world so homie bundle up
We ain't on dis grind for nothin'
Now get ya hustle up

Baby u gotta kno dat I'm just out here
Doin' what I gotta do 4 me and u and we eatin'
So bitch, how da fuck iz u trippin'?
I'm takin' dese chances

My head 2 da sky
My feet on da ground
My fingas 2 da judge
If da money don't move

Then I won't budge
(Won't budge)
No I won't budge, no Lord

Baby u gotta kno dat I'm just out here
Doin' what I gotta do 4 me and u and we eatin'
So bitch, how da fuck iz u trippin'?
I'm takin' dese chances

My head 2 da sky
My feet on da ground
My fingas 2 da judge
If da money don't move

Then I won't budge
(Won't budge)
No I won't budge, no Lord

Man, man this be that Hustler Musik
Young Weezy got that muthafucking Hustler Musik, yo
So ride to it yo, and vibe to it yo
I'm asking y'all please, please

Young Weezy got that Hustla Musik
Young Weezy got that muthafucking Hustler Musik
Ride to it yo, vibe to it yo
Vibe to it yo

It's trill shit man, it's real talk man
It's how we do it, how we did it, how we done it
It's trill shit man, it's real talk boy
It's how we do it, how we did it, how we done it

I ain't bragging, I ain't boastin', it's the way it go
I ain't bragging, I ain't boastin', that's the way it is
Better guard your kids, guard your face, better guard your body
We warned the place, we here
Fuck bitches, it's young money, nigga

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