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Hoppin over barbed wire fences nigga Had this one broad right, SHE was so damn sprung she used to hold my motherfuckin.. motherfuckin SAC nigga! Thought you though, nigga And a motherfuckin.. V.H.S., uhh motherfuckin cannister Nigga, yeah ay, I promise you nigga this game been so damn good (Said this rap game's been good to me) Hard times (But I don't know how long that's gonna be..) Hope I don't go back to slangin ya-yo Slangin llello, to get my maillll Hope I don't go back to slangin ya-yo Slangin llello, to get my maillll Been a hustler since birth, mama sellin dinners for the church Red-handed, caught me stealin money out her purse Got branded, permanent whip scars on my back Cause I used to get beat, with racing car tracks But now me got wealth, holdin a conference call on my hands free car telephone lookin like I'm talkin to myself Shootin the breeze cuttin it up real smooth like choppin it up like true business men Talkin about it, by the way B - what we doin' this week on SoundScan? If I ain't in Japan, I'm in the Valley Or maybe next door in Gary Payton bowling alley Or maybe at the shootin range, me and Banks Or on the golf course, with Merton Hanks Or we lay in the sun, give me my propers with a beat that's out of this world, lookin down on doctors Sippin on Port, watchin my kids play basketball in the backyard on a 40 by 63 foot long sports court Hope I don't go back to slangin ya-yo Slangin llello, to get my maillll Hope I don't go back to slangin ya-yo Slangin llello, to get my maillll Business spot up in the wilderness, coyotes and wild boars Dupont registry aluminum pool table made strictly for outdoors Twenty inch gold super Bravos on my everybody ain't able to be blessed with success with an independent-ass record label Check it out, marbles, I got the game from my Uncle Saint Char-les Used to bank across the street at Wells Fargo but now it's Merrill Lynch And just think, I used to sit the bench I remember gettin chased by the cops, had to get my stomach pumped full of a quarter ounce of rocks, late afternoon Po-po waitin for me outside of Vallejo Kaiser Permanente emergency room with glocks, ready to Rodney King me to death Somehow I managed to make my escape through the back of the cafeteria by the vending machine department quickly Found myself runnin through the Friendship Apartment Complex over there by the railroad tracks, around the corner from the People's Continuation High School Somewhere off in Lofas, behind Je-nai's Liquor ooh Hope I don't go back to slangin ya-yo Slangin llello, to get my maillll Hope I don't go back to slangin ya-yo Slangin llello, to get my maillll Get my mail, check it out, dope game ain't goin Now it seems the, white-collared crimes, are hookin up phones "Charlie Hustle, I got a few mathmatics I'm doing a compilation, should I go with Phunky Phat Graph-X? I tell them, "Hell yeah that's a done deal, dude them be off the hinges Dude them did my cover and my bus benches" Game warrior invested, worldwide Sick-Wid-It shit, independent chips BEYOOOOOOOOOTCH! Ay see ay, I'ma tell you nigga That's the thing about this whole thing that jump off It's a fool cause a muh'fucka take his bloody money right until he sit up there and he look and he say "Hold on man, hold on man" A muh'fucka, yknowmsayin? You can either be at this shit or you can be gone with this shit and you look at it and then he say, "Man hold on let me translate this shit - let me translate into some marbles Let me liquidate my motherfuckin revenelles" You understand what I'm sayin? 40-Water now, you understand? Ay, ay, but look, check this out I'm here to sprinkle motherfuckers, lace they tennis shoes Teach them about the motherfuckin game-orienfested situations that goes down in the motherfuckin motherfuckin soils weepolations I ain't bullshittin niggaz! I don't bullshit! I ain't bullshittin nigga! Hope I don't go back to slangin ya-yo Slangin llello, to get my maillll Hope I don't go back to slangin ya-yo Slangin llello, to get my maillll There's too many jealous brothers in this game I can't stay the same... I gotta get mine Hope I don't go back to slangin ya-yo Slangin llello, to get my maillll Get my money on.. Don't wanna go, don't wanna go, don't wanna go Don't wanna go back - back to the game, heyyyy To get your mail, BEYOOOOOOOTCH!
Album/Movie | I Don't F**k With You |
Singers | Big Sean, E40 |
Music Composer | Sean Anderson |
Language | English |
Music Company | (P) 2014 Getting Out Our Dreams, Inc./Def Jam Recordings, a division of UMG Recordings, Inc. |
Duration | 04:44 |
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