Hook And thats how we keep it crunk, from the club to the streets To the two door capri, crunk out with the beat We shakin’ hoes off, cut em’ up like a slab Then hit the studio and take it back to the lab
If 5 on 2, shit it’s all good, we ride through the hood In the delta 88’, with that georgia license plate These niggas don’t know They don’t even wanna show no love to a a nigga like me So I just stay on the grind, stay down for mine Trying to get mine in daily Holla’ at me like you know your fo’, chiefing on that green green Never snort a lot of coke, stayed down with the home team Know what I mean? some shit have a nigga stressed out Make him small fast Bout’ 175 will quit to open that cannon and woop your ass But ya’ wait, get a bat face on the one-time while these hoes Choose on the attic crew, my girl already been chose These stankin’ bitches get your boy caught up in that fuck shit I know they suckin dick, but they thanking the game I spit I put they ass in a rap and ride out on them hoes Get wit’ my slick partna’ then hit the studio
Now see I jumps up, without a doubt Not a question being asked as you dash, with no way out Through the whirl-wind I spin, intruders, we break em’ in. Atlanta georgia, we comin’ for ya’ with 50 men In sets of 10, no sippin’ gin, we steppin’ in Its the attic crew, no flaw within We them youngbloodz wit’ plenty kin No ifs, no ands, no buts, no grins We after you, so what you do is count to three, then click your shoes Then out the door, back to your hoe, down on the low, straight toe to toe Cause j-bo is who I be, won’t fuck with you, don’t fuck with me So can’t you see through the enemies You’d besta be all you can fucking be Stay sucker free, but first get some nuts Before you fuck around and bite the dust Now nigga what, so what you got now if you ride out on them ? cruts’? Hook
A day late and a dolla’ short On the cat walk, winding, tryin’ to get meat 22 tryin’ to see 23, shawty ? three u double t’s? What it ain’t gonna be, what it is Over years I been scratching and scraping Still ain’t came up with nay-thin’, let everybody get they time to shine Still waitin’ on mine, ? ? ? In the meantime tryin’ to find a loophole God knows where the next one, for dead Got bust in the neck, nigga cryin’, but the grind don’t stop Like time don’t stop, like a nigga who drop ? ? ? casket, cover it up and ride out, ain’t got nothin’ to be smiling bout’ Only bit ? fake chasers? I’m tryin’ to waste Gotta keep on stackin’, gotta keep on packin’ Slackin’ gonna get me hemmed up, posted up in the store With the blow, don’t show no flow As long as though, see hit the gas flow Gotta play it smart, gotta take it to the heart Fuckin’ around, gonna get you fucked up ? 4:30, the hill, law gone?
Always underestimated, great don’t gives a fuck, don’t make mistakes Shake em’ off gonna get it crunk before this thang get too late Hold up, wait, my homeboys straight, don’t make me go upside your head Drag your ass across the club, heard what I fuckin’ said? We ain’t scared, prepared to take this thang to the streets Capric-e and fleetwood ride good vouges with the beat You might no understand a damn thang that I speak I’m slizzard as hell, might stomp your punk ass to sleep And when this thang get crunk, I pack it up and take it to the lab Hit that gentlemens club, and grab a couple of hoes off on the ass Laugh if you will, thank it’s funny but it ain’t What the fuck you gonna do, when they hit you, stick you for your bank >from the freeze-tag to the fleetwoods, from the two door to the four door Who got the leather, who got the cloth, who got the vougues With all the hoes, who got the gold, who got that grain Who got the green, who got the chains, who got the bitch I got the fleetwood, girls most likely to complain See somethangs can’t be explained, how we really do this man Hit the lab, make it talk, now you here me once again Have you jumpin’ and shakin’, like you off in that blue flame Whats really going on holmes, can you really tell me man
Ayiesha Woods lyrics