Print

(feat. Dubee, PSD) Yeah yeah This is a money-motivated song, man, right? If you're allergic to paper You might not fit in when niggaz gon' have do a caper, man Yeah We ain't allergic to paper, man So we gon' try to turn you niggaz around, man Yamean? Yeah We gon' try to motivate y'all to get your money Cause we money-motivators [Verse 1: Dubee] The way I steer up out this here bitch, so detrimental how a PS real click with that double r ( ? ) partner 530, I'm dirty, hate to say it Represent turf tight and tight with major players With mo' seasoning, suckers be sneakin in the circle Urkle niggaz soakin every line, still ain't with the verbals Get to hoppin hurdles like Jesse Owens in the fast Return-type tactics so quick shakin that past In they entourage bitches be hazy like the samurais Get the mullah, stay savage and suave Now is that savage? Well certainly SongtexteStill I keep it global Multiple skyscraper paper, unknown total Who we? Who that be? Dubee, ask your peoples I leave Sasqwatch footprints and keep it off the heezo Cizzo please, it ain't no need in hawkin Ain't no please believe, I breathe ( ? ) back - yamean? [Chorus] The way I feel about loot Ooh, it ain't no doubt about it I'm a thug [Verse 2: PSD] Say how you do, sir? Well, everything is everything, how 'bout you, brah? Man, I'm tryin to get my paws on some loot, sir If it ain't scratch it ain't shit, how 'bout you, sir? Yeah that's the truth, brah Say I'm a natural, call me 7-11 Playboy, it's factual, I stay high as the heaven I'm like the castle On the chess boards slide front to backwards Up and down, side to side, boy, we at this Me, Dre and Dubee savages in the masses They call my type of people roguish-ass bastards I pull a babe in and tell her flip the matress And get the cash quick Now player listen, this ain't no test of your broadcast system Them niggaz PSD and them be comin with em It ain't no puzzle how I feel about my scrillas Gotta feed my chil'ens [Chorus] [Verse 3: Mac Dre] At the building, chilling, living anxious Waitin for this bitch to deliver some papers The same routine every day Get hit then I split the Chevrolet The 4 15's shake the mirror When the EB's quake couldn't sound no clearer Feelin so cool in my old school Ain't trippin off a bitch, I need some mo' loot Oh, you ain't know you better check my file I get stupid doo-doo dumb, don't sweat the style Me and my niggaz represent the real Don't think we kill? Bet a 100 dollar bill I'ma leave a body, no leads or clues Clepto committee, bitch, we some fools Killas for the scrilla, sucker, can't you tell? The real motherfuckers representin Vallejo Aus Songtexte Mania