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[** from "Mo' Money in the Bank Pt 4: Gang Green Season Starts Now" Mixtape:] |
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[Intro:] |
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Nah-hah!* |
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I don't do all that talking, man; it's it's... one way or the other. |
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You comin' or you gonna watch another bitch leave with me, you know the rush? |
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That's the way shit go, hehe! |
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I'm a fuckin rapstar! {MO MONEY! } |
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[Verse:] |
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Fresh off of the plane I jets off in the range |
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First class seat but this WestCoast ain't the same. |
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The rap game'll bring stress, fortune and fame |
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An' slow drive-bys like when they aired out Kane. [gunshot] {DAMN! } |
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I'm in the S-5-5 with blew out chains |
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You body me, you body them - an' they pull out prayin'. |
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My only wish is to find ya catcher, |
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Lay your ass on a stretcher. |
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Betcha, getcha - ass out the hood! {Whooooooooooooooooooooo Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid! } |
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All I got is rap an for that - I spazz out for good. |
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That's my income; it keeps me in paz an Hollywood, I'm hardly home, |
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When I leave the club the party gone. |
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An' I'm pissy of petroleum trying get my own home. |
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My name's Bank$ baby! {HAHA! } - I'm top rank lady. |
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I gotta go grab your coat itch you ain't crazy. {DAMN! } |
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I speed-off - gainin' and rushin' to bend her over sumthin', |
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Then I'm bumpin'! - The volumes to the Max and I'm frontin'. |
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All of a sudden she's down on the humble for a feel |
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And I'm driftin' in an out of lanes, fumblin' the wheel. |
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A couple of miles later {Whooooooooo! } I'll be comin' on the grill |
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Then it's back to the hotel to chill. - Ma' give you the rush! |
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[Chorus:] |
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Damn maaaaaa'... |
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That lil' outfit got my 3rd hand hiiiigh. |
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And I need you to understand IIIIIIIIIII {SADA POP! } |
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Really ain't got a lot o' time, bitch shout ya mind. - It's meeee! |
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Damn Blood! |
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Don't you wanna get out of them handcuffs? |
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I ain't gon' love you like your man doooeeees |
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I ain't gotta lot of time - Bitch shout ya miiiind! [car tires squeal] [shot] [beat stops] |
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{Whoooooooooo} |
