yo i need someone to get me this right here

Ridin' big, gettin' mine
Two microwaves, flip a brick at a time
Bandana on the handle ready for the whip
When I wear the whitest soft watch it disappear
I disappear in the middle of the night
When I reappear, bet the boss look so bright
For life, dope boy
More strikes, oh boy
We ridin' low, gettin' high
80 round drum let ya know the time
When you see the Maybach, niggas know it's mine
Ridin' on the 2-4's I'm ahead of my time
Watch runnin' from kind, another one on my mind
Phone bill 4 grand get your ho on my line
In the hood, ho niggas act funny
Only real niggas really get to touch cash money

speak to her if she aint sound like she use to then she guettin dick down

RUN FOR REAL

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Lets go, uh
When niggaz see me in the street they be like there go double O again
He got the .357 set and he 'bout to let it go again
Switchin up this flow again, grindin up for that dough again
Your mans in that set trip, I'm 'bout to put a hole in him
Hands up plus lip, let me see ya'll niggaz bang
Hit a nigga in his head make 'em come about this chain
Homey I'm the best at this shit
I'm the don wit a black mark about to tag up on this shit
That niggaz perpin ya'll ain't seen no bricks
We movin grindin on a new city gettin jacked suckin ain't no dick
And you can show if it ain't no purp-b
Our buns be color of pookey lips when they gave 'em that turkey
Been a long time comin, but my time is due
Everythin is crystal clear but the shines is blue
Caught away seats in the gray CL
Wit so many weight in the trunk
If you don't chop it the brick scale, nigga!

SAME THING IS GOING ON WITH ME OVER HERE IN TOGO

THATS MY NICCA

WE WILL MISS U BUHARI

ha ha big lie

Yeah! Guess who walk around with diamond chains and rings on 'em
A pair of throwback Jordan's, with the wings on 'em
With all this talking I'm guessin they got them things on 'em
'Cause if not Milli's the Forty Cal's a ring on 'em
I know your kind gettin by leave the city quick
Niggaz bleed just like us I'm on that Biggie shit
First of all I'm sup-posed to ball
I'm sup-posed to have coast to, coast to calls
And your niggaz on your cd's garbage
Yeah they shootin but they missin, sprayin up the wall like graffiti artist
Some niggaz by the bootleg but go and cop the real shit
'Cause the fans love us I'm nicer than grandmothers
I wake up get dressed put on my tan butters
It been this way since Puma's and Super Man cover's
A ice pick could do your liver harm
And have you screamin in the back of the club louder than Lil' Jon

my art

MONEY MONEY MONEY IS ALL I NEEED

Bored as hell and I wanna get ill
So I went to a place where my homeboys chill
The fellows out there makin' that dollar
I pulled up in my '64 Impala
They greet me with a forty and I started drinkin'
And from the eight-ball my breath start stinkin'
Left to get my girl, to rock that body
Before I left I hit the Bacardi
Went to her house to get her out of the pad
Dumb hoe said somethin' that made me mad
She said somethin' that I couldn't believe
So I grabbed the stupid bitch by her nappy-ass weave
She started talkin' shit, wouldn't you know?
Reached back like a love-vendor and slapped the ho
Her father jumped out and he started to shout
So I him threw a right cross, cold-knocked him out

THEM SHOES IS UGLY 4 REAL I CANNOT ROCK THOSE

DAVIDO SUCKS

LOVELY

UM HERE BABY

OOPS MY BAD