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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Lyricist: TM
Lyrics:
[Intro]
Yeah, what up three times Time is Money nigga Truly believe that...
[Verse 1]
Play your fee No sleep, little nigga don't lie down It's real when the beef don't die down Me I gotta eat I keep the heat Run, picture me high clown I don't give a fuck, ride later or ride now Keep it on the waste Let a nigga jump I'll have him leaking from the face And put a beating on the case Niggas in the hood might hate me But they don't try shit 'Cos them Thirty-Eights ain't got no safetys S Dot, P Dot, D Block Dolo at the juice bar or weed spot Came with the heat cocked Seat low, black Crown Vic, let the beat knock Deep thoughts, ride through New York Who's got the streets locked? You can tell your man I'll smoke ya Raps Alejandro Sosa Hang you from the helicopter Hopping in the Yukon with the tanned out sofas I only eat seafood And when I look at these rappers I see seafood I heard y'all don't give a fuck niggas, me too We can mete up the bill Matter fact we can meet up to kill Niggas from cross town we can meet at the hill Second album is coming, I'm expecting the hate I'm the same S.P. so the weapons is placed And I don't press charges I'm the type of nigga that'll hop up out the garbage Dressed in camoflauge like I came out the forest Four in the Taurus 'Cos everybody singing like the court need a chorus I'm tired of the games Blowing niggas brains out the frames Put short, get a florist
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