respect it's given as it's taken, Been given props, now respected tracks is what I'm making, Shouts to everyone I met on tour, It's our hip hop ladies
three years in jail How he missed the streets 'cause bein' in there was like hell 'Bout his little daughter Kira, center of his world His princess and she know she daddy's
mama, welcome to the 60's (Your mama's hip, hip) Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Oh, oh (Your mama's in, mama) Oh mama, welcome to the 60's (Your mama's lookin
down low, you know my style Oh, man there go my main man Spud Luva for the Troopa Love crew He got it goin' on there, go Shabar She, she got a little
, I got your girlfriend ho-in' And how do I know that she's funk? I know she's broke cause yo, the T's hung Like a Shetland pony, gettin' paid like Sony So never
never look my way, hey I'm lickin' down you darlin' In every single way, hey Your funny flow is foreign And a Green Card's on the way This ain't got
like a bitch to get myself in this race 'Oh my days, she's going on real' Yeah dam straight cos you know that I'm ill 'Shystie's sick she's real to the
more shit, I play it modest like nigga that's some of our old shit. Got niggaz I ain't never met wantin to fight me, Got hoes that's in love askin why
World's come to, where the fuck's it goin? [Chorus - without ad libs] [Outro - DJ On Point - talking until the end (echo)] Shout out to my nigga Trees Bland Bland Management Shout
Pause, man I tell 'em whatever Say I got a little X, they think I know the director Ma, that's just how the game go Never burberry but you could splurge
now he's a junkie There's 8 Million Stories in the city, it's a pity Don't fuck with the skins if she's trying to act shitty Shout to the guru, primo
Rick Ross] Two door Bugatti coupe I call it Katy Perry Wiz Khalifa papers smoking my favourite berry?s S65 I call it Rihanna It got a red top but it?s
single way (hey!) Your funny flow is foreign and a green card's on the way This ain't got shit to do with shampoo But watch your Head 'n S(oulders Brother
ve got a song to sing, oh, bay, bay) (I've got a song to sing, here we go) (I've got a song to sing, oh, bay, bay) (I've got a song to sing) Follow me
saying I'm the man He got a Visa, I got a black card Got so much cheese on it, I call it the rat card I gotta good girl, I gotta bad mouth She like my
never got to let me flow, I still kick it Never got to light my six, I still whip it Tell your chick not to see me no more, I still hit it She tossed
house doesn?t turn me on But I like every single thing that Spielberg's done Could I be good enough Could I be good enough If the going got worse And the worse got
, cause that's all we got And I'ma have my Niggas back till my caps pop Chorus Outro: [Tash] Uh, It's all love It's all love (?) Now let me shout it