(feat. Fat Cat) Uhh, yes yes, y'all To the beat, and the S.V.'s is rockin it swift Yes y'all, lyrics just come off like shifts See when I'm on the microphone
Translation: Slum Village. Fat Cat Song.
getting to the money then get on our way Yep, 3 whips back to back Followed by a Cadillac truck Sluts with us, fake tits and they asses fat Gudda ain't ya average cat
WE MAINTAIN On sunny days all sadness and pain be relieved WE BELIEVE The breeze blows the leaves in the gypsy king's court WE SUPPORT Food and wine song
you love your ground / high above the ground / and the earth you thought would end your song ?song? / lifts up and
she had an ass so fat You couldn't palm it with Shaquille hands It seems to me she had the whole world in her pants Walked behind her whispering love songs
You gotta You gotta You gotta Pack up you dirty looks Your songs that have no hooks Your stacks of Modern Screen Your portrait of the queen Your mangy cat away Your baby fat
" "you gotta" Pack up you dirty looks, Your songs that have no hooks, Your stacks of modern screen, Your portrait of the queen, Your mangy cat away, Your baby fat
moving out today Pack up your dirty looks Your songs that have no hooks Your stacks of Modern Screen Your portrait of the Queen Your mangy cat away Your baby fat
cat I'm a little more country that Picture a small town with an old hound Laying out front of the court house While the old men chew the fat I'm a little
heard a rumor in the street, muthafucka was gifted Up and comin' nigga might need to get with One cat from BK, put him on your hit list Sauce Money, fat
In the corner with a set of fly ass twins And me I'm sittin' fat 'Cause I'm the Rottweiler and I'm lookin' for a kitty cat And some high heel pumps and
talking wrong? I said nah, I'm a walking Kanye/Beyonce song. She said I'm mad at you, I said why? She said why you never make songs for chicks as if
The first ones in line for that pie-in-the-sky And we're always the last when the cream is shared out For the worker is working when the fat cat's about
I be low key, money, hoes, clothes is all a nigga knows, don't bring enough I blow it by the O, I hit the road, cause shit is exactly how it seems, why cat
on as the song plays Can a devil fool a Muslim? Nah, not nowadays On your mark, get set, pass the 40, let's jet A fat rhyme is what you want, a fat rhyme
at your stare so yo Come do me, it's done or rather should I say it's on The mental instrumental I continue with My song yeah we've got jumping jerks
