Staxxx In My Jeans (Album Version)

Staxxx In My Jeans (Album Version)

Snoop Dogg

Staxxx in my jeans Phantom up in my garage [x2]
My pockets fill they rerun, your pockets fill they rawzz

[Chorus:]
I got staxxx in my jeans Phantom up in my garage,
I got staxxx in my jeans Phantom up in my garage,
I got staxxx in my jeans Phantom up in my garage (yeah!)
My pockets fill they rerun your pockets fill they rawzz

Its the same story, a nigga rich,
I'm on some nigga shit, and your nigga bitach!
You better check em, tell em Im off the chain,
I buck and bang, homie thats only game,
Oh I ain't got a problem, you see me get the staxxx,
You see I bought the Phantom, 24's don't come with that,
Ive been around the world, check grippin' every state,
Your bitch don't like me, she fake, so people might call it hate,
But I don't give a damn, a boss's life is how I make that bread,
Toss the mic and Ill still be richer than rich and have your bitch make my bed,
My pockets fat as shit, you niggas mad as shit,
Fuck neither Warner bro's, Im on some Gladys shit,
Many have tried and failed, shit I'm out on bail,
I make more cheese than your old man and he went to Yale,
Shit I went to jail, you can go to hell,
You got some shit to tell, I got some shit to sell.

[Chorus]

Candy paint drippin', look at all them bags,
I had to show and brag, cause being broke's a drag,
I gotta get this paper, my kids they gotta eat!
We got a lotta heat, just case them dollars, cease,
Been out for ballin, shot callin' and I make that change,
And I don't want the Range, chop that spray on things,
Thats how gangsta's do it, we get our green and bricks,
We put our green in blunts, you spend your green on chicks,
I'm on some playa shit, dynasty straight Lakers shit,
Cook it up on some baker shit, and chop it up on some paper bitch!
I got my mind right, and my money right,
If you ain't in the game for the money, you the funny type,
And I'm laughing my ass off, Phantom with the mask off,
Legal, so they hatin' when I gas off,
You know how Snoopy does it, Phantom, don't bitch touch it,
One hundred thousand a show, I'm gettin' dough like fuck!

[Chorus]

Look how that flag hangin', gangbangin' I ain't no punk,
Maintain till that thing came out the truck, make that (A)K go pop pop pop!
I'm bout my bidness boy, makin' money never been so smooth,
Your bitch you bout to lose, cause she about to choose!
And thats the way it goes, S N double O,
You want that quiet type, I want that trouble ho!
Now go get paper girl, yeah, I meant for real,
One time I told a bitch not to come back till she got two thousand dollars in two dollar bills! (Wow!)
Thats cold game, a ho thing,
I'm high as Soul Plane, I smoked the whole thing,
You know how daddy do it, Im true to it,
I take a cocaine, bew it then put some blue to it!
Thats some gangsta shit, these hoes love this gangsta dick,
Khaki's and some gangsta kicks, yea bitch thats my gangsta fit,
I'm ballin' boy, and you ain't got to ask,
She all about this pimpin', I'm all about this cash,

[Chorus]

I got [x3]
My pockets fill they rerun your pockets fill they rawzz

Written by BROADUS, CALVIN / THOMAS, RICARDO / JACKSON, THOMAS
Published by EMI Music Publishing

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

Chat About This Song