歌词
作词 : Lamont Coleman
作曲 : Lamont Coleman
One-two, one-two
Kinda tired..
Big L, 'bout ta.. get into some shit
Aight check it out
**** all the glamours and glitz, I plan to get rich
I'm from New York and never was a fan of the Knicks
And I'm all about expanding my chips
You mad cause I was in the van with your b***h
With both hands on her t**s
Corleone hold the throne, that you know in your heart
I got style plus the way that I be flowing is sharp
A while back I used to hustle, selling blow in the park
Counting G stacks and rocking ice that glow in the dark
Forever hottie hunting, trigger temper I'm quick to body somethin'
You looking at me like I'm probably frontin'
I **** around and throw three in your chest and flee to my rest
I'm older and smarter this is me at my best
I stopped hanging around y'all cause niggas like you
Be praying on my downfall, hoping I flop
Hoping I stop, you probably even hope I get locked
Or be on the street corner with a pipe smokin' the rock
I got more riches than you, **** more b*****s than you
Only thing I haven't got is more stitches than you
****ing punk, you ain't a leader what, nobody followed you
You was never shit , your mother should have swallowed you
You on some tag-along flunky yes man shit
Do me a favor; please get off the next man shit
And if you think I can't **** with whoever, put your money up
Put your jewels up, no **** it put your honey up
Put your raggedy house up b***h or shut your mouth up
Before I buck lead and make a lot of blood shed
Turn your tux red, I'm far from broke, got enough bread
And mad hoes, ask Beavis I get nothing Butthead
My game is vicious and cruel, ****ing chicks is a rule
If my girl think I'm loyal then that b***h is a fool
How come? You can listen to my first album
And tell where a lot of niggas got they whole style from
So what you acting for?
You ain't half as raw, you need to practice more
Somebody tell this nigga something, 'fore I crack his jaw
You running with boys, I'm running with men
I'ma be ripping the mics until I'm a hundred and ten
Have y'all niggas like 'damn it this nigga done done it again'
I throw slugs at idiots, no love for city cops
I sport a pretty watch, eight-hundred and fifty rocks
I'm making wonderful figures
I don't **** with none of you niggas
I might pull out this gun on your niggas
And rob every last one of you niggas