Yeah, ride wit' me sweet heart
I'll fuck them niggas don't even worry 'bout them
Its cash money baby
You know what I'm talkin' bout
Its the carter two
We won, we won
And then we shot that B-B gun
And they lost, and they lost
Cause we took they shit, now its time to floss
22 year old 17 war vet
Life in the fast-lane, little red corvette
Little red handkerchief, hangin' out the right side
Back pocket jeans fallin', cover my Evisu sign
Yep we do shine, and they gon' hate
But they hated Jesus baby we won't break
So we ride like four Pirelli's
So secured, no security, no protectin' no comparing
Loc' and heavy, Ocean eleven
Aviators, boat takers, so fackers
No playas, I'm Hollygrove to the heart
Hollygrove from the start
Don't cross Earhardt
Boulevard where the ward I come from
One seven, one shot, never that (blum blum)
Brrt Brrt! Pop Pop! Clap Clap!
What the fuck, Hollygrove stand up nigga!
Get 'em get 'em Weezy hit 'em where you kill 'em easy
Sit 'em in the river, leave 'em, they find em tomorrow evening, sinkin'
I'm probably drinkin' that syrup
Thinkin' I won't slip, even though I'm leanin' like a broke hip
He don't know I got the nina wit' the full clip
That's a somersault back spin full flip for ya?
Push this button, I flip out and hit something
Miss nothin' I'm just bustin' until this scene clean
Twelve hundred for the jeans stop playin'
Hundred dollars for the glock in my pants
Who the man? I am when I stand with it pointed right at ya face
Knock the brains from the back of ya neck for lack of respect
I, strap a jet black gat till the deck
Tell the mama to bury me with that, no bullshitin'
My hood getting kinda crazy where I be
So Ronie's with me 'cause he's the O-G
Fresh out the back seat of the figgity phantom
The haters I make 'em madder when I wave at 'em like what up?
If it ain't about money I keep goin'
I try'na get that green, niggas try'na mow my lawn
But fuck, them boys I got the shottie on my arm
If them boys run up I leave their bodies on the lawn
And duck the fuck out a there, 'cause baby its hot out there
If this was a movie it's time to roll the credits, cut!
Its all over, all of ya brains is all over the motherfuckin' block!
I'm a motherfuckin' rock!
Hard body eagle street seventeen shots
Night vision double-clip, hot steady beam, glat! Pop!
Drop little man drop
This is not for little bitches you man or a fox
I'm layin' in the drop, thinking of more money
Cash money, young money
Take money, your money.
Written by CARTER, DWAYNE / WILLIAMS, D. / JONES, TRISTAN / BROWN, RICARDO
Published by Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.