gotta do it big Louis on every bag, bitches I keep it fly We don't need a see the tag, we just see it and then we cop Balling out of control, put it out
oaktown, straight eastside I got all my game from east oakland streets Now motherfuck you damn shit-haired freaks I go on and on as I sing my song If
fuck goin' harder than Nickel? I take a shit on any nigga, no regard for tissue I go hard So much harder than everybody I John Doe tag the toe of every
Like Langston Dreads Down My Back Like I Come Straight From Kingston But I Come From Hollygrove 17 Danger Zone So Many C Notes I Can Sing A Song T-Top
(Spoken): We can step it up just a little bit of a notch. We can step it up I think. And I want you to sing along. To every song that I sing that you
swagged out w/ my tags out with my tags out) Oh you think you getting? Oh you swagged out you think you bad now You getting swagged out just with you're tags out
to my song Check it, my niggas organize, analyze the teamwork And how a bad shorty rockin' that rah digga T-shirt And keep it goin' while you tag along
Heads high Ready to rock Do you want What we got Tag along Crank it up Sing the song you know it don't stop Yo my man get behind the wheel it's time
, my middle name is methadone. so, let's do this quick so no one will ever know. mc nice got more ice than a fuckin' eskimo. he's not whack nickleback singing songs for
WHEN YOU'RE WRONG 'CAUSE I'VE BEEN DOING THIS TOO DOGGONE LONG YOU CAN SING IT IF YOU WANNA BUT, IT'S STILL MY DOGGONE SONG TAG ON OUT: NO, YOU CAN'T
Master p singing: Tru niggas love weed and hoes Silkk talking: Yeah nigga Shit's real in the streets. Shit's real in the city. Everybody out there.
gonna do 20 to life you shed some light before the mic that will change some things for all of us Youre the reazon why my heart is still pumping and I hang out
For Santa's reindeer ride Polish the runners shine Rudolph's nose tighten the harness brush off the snow We love to sing our little working songs wish
the runners, shine Rudolph's nose Tighten the harness, brush off the snow We'd love to sing our little working songs, Wish that we could tag along Just
For Santa's reindeer ride Polish the runners, shine Rudolph's nose Tighten the harness, brush off the snow We'd love to sing our little working songs
foul how bout some chicken for the cow? Oops I meant you sorry for the mix up But your stomachs always big from the sexual slip ups I could buy you and sell you for
son taking drastic measures Striving for buring treasures living life forever However the Soul Brother still doing his thing Bout to get you wide open off the songs that we sing
and sing more, But you dropped anchor in a place where dreams go to die and you're keeping your ass indoors I'm asking for you to stick it out and see