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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Lyricist: Diplomats
Lyrics:
Yeah (Dipset) Oh, come on, yeah uh, fuck with your boy It's Santana, Heatmakers, where we at? Let me see you through this Killa, Jones, Freakay Yeah man, I'm back at it Come on Today's a new day, got the boo-lay up in the suitcase Go uptown to Harlem, tell 'em that I sent ya Tell 'em it's August, I'm going to November I need a couple birds, get a broad, have 'em sent up Call my bird, get my broad have her sent up (please) Call my niggas, call my squad, have 'em sent up (please) I see a town I'm likin' See some niggas getting money in a town I like it (yeah) I run up on them with the pound and light it Like it's my block now, all right kid? He understood me quite clear Then that thing banged out, ranged out the side of his right ear And I got back to my business, back to my bitches Back to the kitchen, that pyrex vision Pop, I let that white stuff sit in Get hard, get rock, get to the block and pitchin' Yeah I'm sorry but this is how I'm livin' And this is how I'm getting, fuck how I get it (hey) I stood alone watching the wall, in the zone, hand on my handles Listening to gangster music I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone, flippin' the channels Watching how the gangsters do it, yeah I stood alone, getting dome, from a thick chick in sandles Watching shaft, clocking math Now I see death around the corner Gotta stay high, will I survive in the city where the skinny niggas die? (Nope) It's the city where the skinny niggas ride, yeah Four, five semi on the side, twisting when they drive, yeah Lick a shot for Big Pop and 'Pac, yeah One more for Shyne locked inside, yeah Two more for Cam, for taking over the Roc Yeah, yeah, it's my year So, okay, okay, okay, y'all can't fuck with me, no way (what?) Jose or Hector Camacho Tech blows and watch yo' chest close and tacos Motherfucker I'm the best, I told y'all before I showed y'all before, ay I stood alone watching the wall, in the zone, hand on my handles Listening to gangster music, eh I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone, flippin' the channels Watching how the gangsters do it I stood alone, getting dome, from a thick chick in sandles Watching shaft, clocking math (clocking math) (What would you say Santana?) (It's the union right here) (Let's do it one time) (Ok, killa, killa) I'm on the westside of Chicago, lookin' for a bust down And make me put my two arms up, touchdown You stay in touch now, but when I tough down I'm like buckshot shorty, you better, duck down Yeah I must clown, I'm from Harlem, uptown Where we flash money, take your bitch and ask you, what now? Birds flip a dozen, chicks is dicks they suckin' Swallow my kids, go and kiss they cousin Yes, they kissing cousins, toys kissing muppets Worst then that, they go home and kiss they husband That shit's disgusting Keep the chickens clucking, keep the pigeons buggin' This on my wrist is nothing To me it's just yellow hearts and pink diamonds Where I get the money for this? Don't think rhymin' You fucking with Pablo, Bravo, Mario Via Bolo ho, Ta-to I stood alone watching the wall, in the zone, hand on my handles Listening to gangsters music I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone, flippin' the channels Watching how the gangsters do it I stood alone watching the wall, in the zone, hand on my handles Listening to gangsters music I stood alone, getting dome, from a thick chick in sandles Watching shaft, clocking math
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