with the candy paint And an iced out booty with an iced out make I like girls with their goodie-good-good Woodpeckers peckin' on the woodie-wood-wood She love a go on the hoodie-hood-hood
sound crazy, but I ran out of slugs before Yeah, I know the feds watch me But my vest clashes hard with the Versace So I'm just rollin' in the black
The Clive Christian Scent A Lot Of Niggas Threatened My Postion And Thrillen Bars You Think Im Writing With John Krishenpen I Need Rossi Never Mind The Pricing Know We Brought Cake To The Party
day Roll to every station, wreck the DJ Roll to every station, wreck the DJ Hip hop just died this mornin' And she's dead, she's dead Yeah, people smoke, chill, party
With the bone, it's a party everyday, so say, mo' And it's still this strong to brain I hop on the phone with the homies to see What's happenin' in the hood
way you get a man, get a man Sneak up on him and you kill him And he won't fuck with you no more You havin' a party With that weed goin' up in ya body
the night This is fast life livin', pick a coast if you like The day we cell dope, the night is velvet rope Party with the chicks from the club with
myself so i can be on top [Sheek Louch-Verse1](Sheek Talking) ayo your lil' house party was cute and shit i shoulda came there with a suit and shit,
club No disrespect to Usher I ain't never been a Busta Kellz put me on the 12 play when I was just a baby Look I need a hood girl Real hood girl
in this club No disrespect to Usher I ain't never been a Busta Kellz put me on the 12 play when I was just a baby Look I need a hood girl Real hood girl
my new boy kicks, new boy shirt, the show aint poppin til the new boyz jerk... (Both) If you see us at a party in the hood [we jerkin] if you watch us
feel me All the ladies come party with me Fellas grab your girl And let's turn this party out Everybody put your hands up if you feel me All the ladies come party with
tight 'Cause I'm tight like a Jewish wife, I'm that nice, **** You know Red, I be at the party like Drinking Bacardi with somebody Had to smack a chick
your chain I'ma leave the same way I came, that's thorough I run up in your hood like 80 deep Have it sound like _Drumlines_ at A&T, muh'fucker [Chorus
you (Without further ado) You highness, Black Rob, Spanish Harlem's finest (Your highness) I roll with soldiers, quick to run pass and snuff you Regulate the streets of BK with
get hard from the sound of a kid rum Riding down the strip with your diamonds and [unverified] Shiny bald head catching sun rays Smashing down the strip going backwards down runways Four eighteens with
rap rock I make a block party, bop to the sounds of a hot glock From New York down to Georgia, it don't stop Killer Kill from Addamsville with a hot
we go, I'm about to show All the homies in the hood that I can flow With the Underground, with the P-funk in the sound And if it ain't gots the P it