on the beach We can share, its only fair Ive got paradise on call, its ours, its ours! She got a little taste and she wants more, some moreee We run L.A
a Porsche We get dough in all land the size of philly of course Can imagine the price that my jewelery really would cost We go to clubs with a briefcase and a
Players, players) To my man King Tee, seem like he cant think Without a drink but he's a player, he's a player Got to admit it, TLA, you a goddamn player To Tone-Loc, boo, ya
L.A. streets Now hook ya nigga wit some L.A. freaks, baby It's Friday night Straight sellin' with my Texas G Stayin' sucka free as I L-O-C It's Friday
And de most energy meh wan' gi her tonight Give her tonight gan makes ya feel right Makes ya fly like a kite and reach a new height, ya We give it to
go, now we in the Louis tho It's two below hundred degrees, I'm drivin' about 103 With a S.T.L. hat on, top down holdin' a blunt You know I'm smokin'
hips Run girl Cream on your thong girl, and l*** it all off Catch it in your mou**, like your last name Moss Set a pick for your boy, then you run it
spite of the lies that y'all told Believe me these folks is all cold from the Polo Club to Paul doe They all know Bubba ya boy who cut her without a
its why we pimpin on a pimp ass stall We back and forth still boy when I shoot that big ass wall she wanna live boy betta get up on ya guard get down
m peelin' rappers' heads, makin' a sam-a-wich Think I'ma turn into and put a bullet inside of a Motherfucker from Westside, a 1987 box I'm headed up,
Cubans meet the Haitians A bullet beats the verbal lyrical assassination From L.A. to Brooklyn, why you doin' all that talkin'? Think you got a soul
Cubans meet the Haitians A bullet beats the verbal lyrical assassination From L A to Brooklyn why you doin' all that talkin' Think you got a soul but
up, get a crew, gun his town [WC] Fuck that, I dun dis shit befo' after we twist deez niggas, we gon twist some mo' (CJ Mac) Out-a-town nigga havin' a
I'm down with the M.A.A.D. ass u know hoo Brothers of the mother M.A.A.D. Circle I'm down with the M.A.A.D. ass u know hoo Brothers of the mother M.
to crush a country, any dude disrespectin pun he betta play da run c, bring your mans, and den we hands all him, den we pull timbaland tramplum, den we
do we beat ya down (X2) [Frayser Boy] What ya cowards wanna do, don't give a fuck bout what ya sayin Pull a pistol on ya in a minute wit no delayin
to a mirror cause you playin with yourself we raise hell, we go hard, dont make me bring the drama to ya momma front yard This is my block We run things
let's see who we could trouble most by hittin these haters up with a double dose Toast! We got it locked like a figure-fo' Aiyyo Premier, let a motherfuckin
