Tho Dem Wrappas
Lyrics
Talking
Uhh, I boss thru in a Hummer, Murphy the Don, Lizzie, Keyuan
With the Best thunder than Shaun Jon, you don't want None
partna im Batter up and leavin heads swollen up
On top of all that, I got the rap sewed up
Hold up, with the budda thumpin' niggaz Qouta
And just the teach a lesson, I put one in ya shoulder
I told ya, 'Tics live for the street life
Eat Right, Fuck good, And reefer thru the Pipe
And give me head all night
And if its some beef, I pumpin lead on sight
until they deceased
I took ya head off right
I live in the Beast
Nigga, where the Feds, Play sheist
I still floss ice, keep it tight
E-very time, call me the Black Liberace when I'm playing mine
Thats how I flo, I gotta get mine partna, any way it go
Whether it be rapping or with the 4-4
(Chorus) x2
Let's make a Million
Keep it real for Triple-0
Eyes low, from plenty Henny and Hydro
Fuck a bitch and some Clothes
I gotta get rich, Go platinium in 2 shows
And get the Dough....
My nigga, I can make a million
blind-folded, with no shows
using no flows, just Arm -n- Hammer
And folk O's
Gimmie low does and a Connect, that neva closed
And watch me lock it down from North Cali to BenRos
Fuck some Mo-Mo's, Gimmie hundereds with soft chrome
On the Navigata equipped to click and log on
I leave that before its gone
'Fore they even bring it home
Matta Fact, I'll tell you what send it back its all wrong
Two holes in the roof, to let the sun come in
Matchin' leather carseat, in case my son get in
I spare one off in the back in case he bring his friend
Playstation just in case a nigga think he can win
(Chorus) x2
Let's make a Million
Keep it real for Triple-0
Eyes low, from plenty Henny and Hydro
Fuck a bitch and some Clothes
I gotta get rich, Go platinium in 2 shows
And get the Dough....
I gotta make a million
Gotta get myself a million
Gonna turn that into a billion
If not, then I just won't die
I say now, Tho yo wrappers off in tha air
But only if the ice on your wrist cause glares
I gettin stares from dime bitches,
is he alone? Wheres his misses?
1-2-3-4 or 5 bottles of Cris's
on the Table, arms the strong ripp off the Label
No more shows for free, I'm pay-per-view like Cable
They all screamin my name, different shades and race
Take them all backstage and lett'em plead they case
Make a million like Jigga, standin in one place
Sound Scan like Thrilla with out changing my face
They threw the weed plant, B, says who?
- says mace
Then whats plan A, cause plan B is a BOMB case
(Chorus) x2
Let's make a Million
Keep it real for Triple-0
Eyes low, from plenty Henny and Hydro
Fuck a bitch and some Clothes
I gotta get rich, Go platinium in 2 shows
And get the Dough....
I gotta make a million
Gotta get myself a million
Gonna turn that into a billion
If not, then I just won't die
All my Midwest niggaz tryin to make a meal,
Tho Dem Wrappas ( And get the Dough-O )
All my Dirty South niggaz tryin to make a meal,
Tho Dem Wrappas ( And get the Dough-O )
All my West Coast niggaz tryin to make a meal,
Tho Dem Wrappas ( And get the Dough-O )
All my East Coast niggaz tryin to make a meal,
Tho Dem Wrappas ( And get the Dough-O )
Writer(s): JASON EPPERSON, CORNELL HAYNES
Copyright(s): Lyrics © D2 PRO PUBLISHING, Universal Music Publishing Group, Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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