See me in the club, got a gun on my Lex
Select paper and invade all the illest niggas
Tally up pen, yo, Live Crew meetin'
Layin' in the lab with rolls o' fly Mo-et ho
All niggas eatin'
(Woah)
Wreckin' ball gangsters, unleash the law
Straight up, colorful drawers, bad whores
On the weekend eat a raw style like Flounder
Fuckin' wit' mine or how we design
My niggas might find ya
Layin' in the tropics, big dick shit on park
They way his Clarks look, niggas on top it
Movin' out, colored Durangos switch to me, broke
That's how I picture rich niggas with the same coats
All rich niggas with the same coke
You can catch us cruisin' all on a ship
Fully equipped, on a Star Tac, callin' a bitch
How much you get, when that Absolute and Hennesey mix
(Ultimate, ultimate)
Wu shit, my whole click
(Ultimate, ultimate)
Rubba-dub, ass in the club, showin' me love
Sayin' "Peace" to the nigga that thug, I got the drugs
And the .38, snub-nose, strikin' a pose
Baby girl, threw a drink on my clothes, the new Girbaud's
Lewis Fritz, Hot Nikks, nigga what's happenin'?
Any shit, holdin' my dick, smokin' a clip, thanks for askin'
Mashin', the latest fashion
Dance floor packed with whites, blacks and Latins
All N Together, together for worship better
Now I put it down whether its Methy, Method, or Meth-Tical
Rock, skate, roll, bounce
I'm bound to wreck ya body as they turn the party out
All magazine's lit, the fly life we live
The lingo is to let y'all niggas know
High niggas rent , I'm set like nuh, purple and the new Lex
Trifle and work, let's murder everything that Wu wanted sent
I'd better pay Big Momma for usin' his lyrics
Pay Big Momma for usin' his lyrics
(You betta)
Pay Big Momma for usin' his lyrics
Pay Big Momma for usin' his lyrics
(Come on, come on)
And my mouth stay dry 'cos I swallow the struggle
I might connect you to a VCR, after they plug you
I'm not a gangsta, I hate thugs too
I'm just a nigga that painted a picture without a paintbrush too
Without a paintbrush too
Bulletproof Wallets, 20 t'ya kids that says made outta Korea
Top Sear, got's to be a lot to see a rock [Unverified] be beamed up behind the stove
Askin' how Maria pop Leah
Cursed out Leah, burst out a purse with the Gods you jeer
From Star's Pizzeria, peace, hate to be ya
Especially when the shots ring off in slow motion
When yo' head hit the meter
You lost two leaders, at the same case speeder
Peter slid through shook 'em down for his reefer
James chased Theresa with a hatchet on Easter
Two murders in the 'hood, we call 'em double features
Watch how I eat this, freak the best teacher
At the prayer with the preacher
I get skeet in the bleachers
And your girl, I might eat her
I'm a lover, not a biter
(Well, yeah)
I still catch her for a piece
He's as good as the rest of 'em
And as bad as the worst
So don't hate me
You'd better move over, yeah
(Yeah, yeah)
Eah, fuckin' idiots
Yo, uh, uh, wallets motherfuckers
That's right, all my shit is bulletproof
Stoop for the bulletproof
(Yeah)
Yeah, Projects
(Yeah)
Bulletproof wallets
(DJ, DJ)
On yo' ass nigga, you heard?
Dirt-ass niggas, ya niggas ain't got a chance
Stadio, one-three
Word up, ya now dead
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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