. . .
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(*talking*)
Uh what, two triple
Getting it how we live, Wreckshop
Chevis, independent labels uh
(the Hardest Pit is off the chain
The Freestyle King is in the god damn game
And it's going down, E.S.G. and Po-Yo
Tyte Eyez what's up, let's make 'em ride out ha
[Big Pokey]
On tracks I break backs, so come on with it
Here go sixteen bars of poison, getting spitted
Go out and go get it, that's the way I was trained
I'm here on wax baby, with no pro fame
Switch four lanes, in a big old fo' do'
Chevis bread winner, bout to rep the logo
Tours in Tokyo, and Amsterdam
If I'm featured on a song, then it have to jam
Eat niggaz up, like a rack of lamb
For power I spit bars, like battle ram
Call the ambulance, tell 'em stitch this track
If my verse ain't hot, tell 'em hit me back
As a matter of fact, we go dolla for dolla
Independent got our pockets, bout the size of Kamala
Getting big of shotter, balling with your honey
Gambling this shit, fucking off the show money
[Hook]
Wreckshop and Chevis, and we go hard in the paint
Gotta hitting the town, overseas and swiss banks
No blank checks, or who next to plex with the best
Suggest your wearing a vest, or get a hole in your chest
You better ride out (ride out), ride out (ride out)
Ride out (ride out), ride out (ride out)
[Tyte Eyez]
Excuse a young nigga, for taking up too much space
A lyrical drop out, it's Tyte Eyez
Releasing rhymes from my vocals, making 'em hit the deck
E.S.G. and Po-Yo, got's to give us respect
Chin check is what they catch, for fucking around with some veterans
Relieving pain from your pain, like a bottle of Excedrin
Dirty 3rd's the section, we filling all prescriptions
From pills to codeine, to ecstasy we granting wishes
Eat steak on platinum dishes, going fishing in the Gulf
North pull out the boat, and let the jet skis float
Dirty 3rd's the coast, and we some superstars
Wearing ten around our neck, investing fifty in a car
And if you ever see me rolling, blowing weed into traffic
Ain't no high side with me, you need to postally autograph it
Ain't no calling you fishes or bitches, or even scrubs
Cause we get it how we live it, and that's ghetto love
[Hook]
[E.S.G.]
I'm leaving stains in they brains, sixteen bars of pain
Like a four year old kid, putting her'on in they vein
They addicted when it's spitted, well kid I'm working
Trunk on wave, just like a white boy serving
20's be hurting, when I hit the curb slow
Make sure next year, y'all reserve the front row
At the Grammy's, haters can't stand me
Condo in Texas, beach house in Miami
What you dream about I done it, rap game I run it
Bank account on swoll, like Big Moe's stomach
Last year was a good one, reached my quota
Forbes Top 50, came right on over
Sammy Sosa taking over, mashing Rugers
Riding candy Winebagos, Compact computers
Wreckshop and Chevis, worth a bill each now
Sitting on 22's, shutting the whole piece down
[Hook - 2x]
. . .
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(*talking*)
Say Slim, what's the deal baby
(making this money man) uh-huh, true that true that
Check this out, it's going down over here
On the South, so I'm bout to come over
There on the North and scoop you up
We gotta put it down, boys ain't feel us in 9-9
With that Braids N' Fades, it's Y2K baby
Know I'm tal'n bout, candy coated still putting it down
Still swanging and banging ha, boys gon feel us man
Boys gon feel us, wha-wha-wha-wha-wha-what
[Hook: DeShawn Hill]
My love, have you ever seen a
Candy coated Exursion, swang and bang
Still gripping grain
(Northside man huh, Southside what)
[E.S.G.]
See I'm a wide body roller, wood grain remote controller
Blades on Escalades, electric shocks on Range Rovers
Man the game over, when me and Slim pull up
You see us flossing on chrome, with the styrofoam cup
I got a eight and a liter, swanging on the feeter
In the Bentley watching BET, I'm tripping off of Cita
Cristal margaritas, we some block bleeders
My balling tire size, can't ride in two-seaters
Man I need Excursion, or my Navigator
My big body Denali, sqauatting like a Florida Gator
Tell them playa haters, E.S.G. I don't bar
50 cash and dash, like my name was Peter Warren
I parallel parked it, ghetto starts cost to Mars
Man my rims cost more, than some boys cars
Hit the Boulevard, with the nine on my lap-lap
Southside on the map-map, Screw tape tap-tap
[Hook]
[Slim Thug]
Now when I come down, I be throwing up the North shwoing off
Six gallons of gloss, on my 7-9 Boss
I floss the candy cream gleam, when I pull on the scene
My four 18's and screens, got my shit sitting mean
My drop top is a supreme, king of a young team's dream
Like a diamond it bling-bling, when it's hit with sun beams
Shoot more spiders in my ring, when I glide up the block
I got a trunk full of knock, about to bust air shocks
I'm shutting down the parking lot, when you see me ride
See me sitting high with pride, sliding on the buck hide
Looking pretty, on a tour all across my city
Sipping drank by the pint, about to bust my kidney
From the North to the South, we gon represent
I'm getting bent behind tint, pros by the air vent
I spent a lot of cash to shine, but it came in handy
Cause like a child, Slim Thug is so in love with candy huh
[Hook]
[E.S.G.]
Now when I come down, I be throwing up the South
Ice in our mouth, Wreckshop and Swishahouse
[Slim Thug]
We got the braids and fades, and ride 4's and blades
Looking laid in the 'Sacci, or the Gucci shades
[E.S.G.]
Candy red smash, syrup make you lean fast
19 with screens, playing Sega Dreamcast
[Slim Thug]
That candy blue or that green, gon keep our slab looking clean
Watching a movie on my screen, when I pull on the scene
[E.S.G.]
In the new Coupe, chunk the deuce out the hoo-doo
Taper fade playa made, Iceberg or FUBU
[Slim Thug]
And I splurge the Iceberg, and drink gallons of syrup
With a Y-2G bird, valeted on the curb
[E.S.G. & Slim Thug]
See them boppers still bopping, them choppers still chopping
Them tops still dropping, the trunk still popping
Slim Thug and E.S.G., for the Y2K
[Slim Thug]
Man I still got my braids
[E.S.G.]
Man I still got my fade, huh
[Hook]
Northside man huh, Southside what - 2x
. . .
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(Ronnie Spencer)
Money and power, ooh
[Hook: Ronnie Spencer]
Money and power, fortune fame
These are the things that, fast life brings
[Lil' O]
Lil' O got rich, cause O got licks
Now I got chicks, piece and chain cost a brick
I ride around town, in my Benz talking shit
Waving at these haters, with my wrist frost bit
You faggot ass niggaz, ain't nothing to me
Talking bout you got hustle, but you bumping to me
Talking bout front me work, want some'ing for free
But wasn't none of y'all around, when I had nothing to eat
See this game's full of snakes, no one's credible
And everybody hungry, everyone look edible
But thinking I'm a meal, like I'm sloppy seconds fool
Or had me in your crib, with some killas wetting you
See I play the game raw, man I told you that
What made you think you can stop me, from folding stacks
I be striking on you niggaz, like you bowling back
And plus they say the strong survive, man I hold my gat man
[Hook]
Money and power, fortune fame
These are the things that, fast life brings
Money and power, fortune fame
Only the strongest, survive in the game
[E.S.G.]
Money power, fortune and fame
If you ain't true to this game, that don't mean a damn thang
Nigga peep the chain, the watch and ring
Niggaz swear to God I'm working, for a stock exchange
I refrain from the lame, and live my life realest
Four machines with screens, and Will-Lean the Chemist
The Fat Rat with the cheddar, got my back forever
Know the FED's have a fit, when they see us together
We three young niggaz, too advanced for these dumb niggaz
Lick hitters brick splitters, so fuck the crumb niggaz
Seen it all balling, with uneven chances
Hit the club niggaz staring, like my name was Steve Francis
Dropped S leer jets, exec's with techs
If you scream to the FED's, put a beam on your head
My beam ain't scared, kidnap your nieces
You can find 'em in the Gulf, sharks eating they pieces
Get closer to Jesus, when I come with my chopper
Swear I was possessed, like that bitch on Stigmata
Still doing what I gotta, E.S.G. ain't changed
Just the bank account nigga, and the record company name
[Hook]
[Will-Lean]
I got money and the power, dummies made of flowers
Kilos flaked up and baked up, by the hour
Riches and wealth, take it from a lyrical chef
You'll be a broke motherfucker, thinking miracles help
Get it yourself cause playa, I'm bringing the white
And if them FED's on my ass, then I'm changing the flight
Catch the snitch on the block, where he slanging at night
Bitch nigga spit shots, but ain't aiming 'em right
Claiming your life be shots, fuck the fortune and fame
Cause this feddy is more addictive, than more fiending caine
Scorching your brains, niggaz live they life by the gun
Money come quick, but go faster than it come
Rule number one, is all about respect
And rule number two, put it down for your set
Will-Lean the truth, and that pack techs that connect
Wrecking shop with E.S.G., now it's time to collect
[Hook - 2x]
(Ronnie Spencer)
Survive in the game, yeah
Money-money-money-money-money-money
Fortune and fame, hmmm talking bout money
Ooh talking bout money baby
These are, what the fast life brings
Money-money-money-money yeah
Talking bout money and power, oooh money
Money and power, Wreckshop know what I'm talking about
Yeah oooh, Money-money-money-money-money
Money and power, fortune and fame
. . .
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(*talking*)
Ha-ha, my first brick nigga
Grab your ski mask, naw fuck a mask
Bitch ass nigga, doing it bare faced nigga
This how it's going down for 2-G, feel me
[Hook]
Now get your hands up, this is a motherfucking stick up
Don't even get up, just give your fucking shit up
And give your grip up, but first give me them bricks up
First time your ass slip up, you'll get lit up nigga
Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt
The block is on fire, so I got's to get me work ah-ah
Nobody moves, nobody gets hit
Pay attention to the story, of how I got my first brick
[E.S.G.]
My first sack was a fifty pack, when I was only 13
Niggaz idolizing ballers, disrepecting dope fiends
First string on the team, came home from practice
Had some drama with my mama, found my stash under my matress
Caught an ass whooping, all my privilages tooken
Niggaz my age getting paid, and I ain't gon stand there just looking
See my uncle be cooking, he's an old school soldier
Use to send me to the corner store, back and forth for baking soda
One day this nigga came over, Texas plates with a briefacase
Didn't know back then, but he was bringing in the fucking weight
I told my uncle fuck a eight, I need a zone
Dropped a gallon the scale, and told me to get my ass on
No need for chaperone, got my grind on on my own
One roof stuck on my dome, stay away from school zones
See my paper got long, but I wasn't done yet
I graduated and migrated, from Bogalusa to Laffeyette
[Hook]
[E.S.G.]
1991, perfected the use of a scale
Steady spending all my mail, while attending USL
I'm like nigga what the hell, this ain't the way to ball
Reconstructed my plans, got down with some niggaz from Lake Charles
Started thinking strategic, nigga how can I win
Fuck that front shit, got down on I-10
Nigga's stash spot all good, stuffing my cheese under my hood
Late night by the bail I'ma make the mail
Then think they tell, should of knew they would
Should of understood how it go, nigga see me bout to burn a row
Out here trying to earn the do', and all these niggaz wanna turn a hoe
They told the FED's bout the cash, even told them hoes about the stash
Trying to mash on the gas, but that didn't last
I came back, thugs waiting on my ass
Got busted by the task, now I'm waiting for the time to pass
Can't wait to get out, so I could find that snitch
Grab my shit, and go blast his ass
Nigga fuck a mask I'll get the last laugh, when you in a hearse bitch
This is the tale, of how I got my first brick
[Hook]
[E.S.G.]
Now I'm back on the turf, third verse gets deeper
See it's pressing Nextel, said to hell to beppers
Street sweepers, calicoes, Columbians and them Mexicans
Everybody on they feet, but in the street they plexing
After sex from this bopper, use to fuck in 9-4
Told me that nigga got a Coupe, and gave me the scoop on his hoe
Told me they both like it go, to the club on Friday night
Caught him leaving Cornbread's, should of busted his head by the light
Grip my infrared tight, ready to bust teflons
I was itching to do him in, when he stopped by Exon
But that shit'll be dumb, even know where he live
Stayed five cars back, and followed his ass to his crib
Now I'm thinking of what he did, not three years ago
Reached under the seat, for the calico
And caught him, soon as he opened his do'
Now there's nowhere to go, put the barrell to his head
'Fore I left they ass for dead, Noke D this what I said
(*talking*)
Yeah bitch ass nigga, remember me
Give it up bitch (*gun shots*) (*screaming*)
[Hook]
. . .
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[Hook: Ronnie Spencer]
Good life, good life yeeeeah
(doing 150 on the highway)
Good life, good life ooo-oooh
(in a six gangsta bitch, sitting sideways)
Good life, good life hmmmmm
(chunk the deuce out the Coupe, is the fly way)
Good life, good life
(electric gates, Texas plates in my driveway)
[E.S.G.]
Growing up in the ghetto, wasn't no love for us G's
Mama's waiting in line, in hours for the government cheese
Christmas trees had 'empty, man that shit ain't too cool
Prolly get two pairs of socks, and a damn rubix cube
Motherfuckers be a fool, skipping school with snakes
Old dumb ass nigga, can't pass the ties test
I suggest, boys stay ahead it's high tech
For this year 2000, I sell my bricks on the internet
Man I'ma wreck, break boys off and keep flossing
Prepare to roll, like I'm Stone Cold Steve Austin
Boss hogging big balling, me falling nigga never
Wide body Denali, metallic grey matching leather
Put it down for whatever, big Benz blue lens
With my killas right behind me, in that new S-10
See we took a few ends, now we making some millions
For the 2 triple O back in the do', and we living that
[Hook]
[E.S.G.]
It's a lovely day, a lovely day
All work no play, for my thuggish ways
Nigga's hustling today, trying to stack me a bundle
When you balling in the jungle, now sometimes you fumble
I suggest you stay humble, keep from falling under
Hit the block drop the top, eight 15's of thunder
Let's get ready to rumble celebrating all night
Do a song one day, while two grey fog lights
Top dolla rotweiler, fighting pits no poodles
Millionaires still eating, Chimmy Chang's and noodles
Lamborginis fetticini, electric gates with genies
Codeine and Crystal, end and martinis
So tell me have you seen me, doing the thing G's do
Tailor made taper fade, on the cover of GQ screaming
(everybody's living the good life, under the suuuun)
[Hook]
[E.S.G.]
Had to get out and get it, nigga wonder where it's kissing
Beach house by the docks, candy yacht bass fishing
Eddie Bauer Expedition, gon be infloyd
2000 drop dogs, thank Gotti and Todd
Swift and Ken with skin, with two Canadian hoes
No pouring up of pints, syrup stains on the road
Tyte Eyez and Ronnie, D, Dolla and Reck
Need two forms of I.D., to cash this fat ass check
Almost wrecked the Vette, doing a hundred kilometers
So much ice in my mouth, I done cracked the thermometer
Ninja bikes for the summer, we Southside stunners
Boys got plex, you best to take a fucking number
Might as well call the plumber, they bust they windpipes
Screaming here they come, when they saw them new lights
It'll be alright, when I get seven figgas
And be in the basement, with that nigga named Tigga living
[Hook - 2x]
. . .
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(*talking*)
Man huh, you gotta get up on your feet
That means ha-ha, you got's to bring it (shine on)
Cause there's no hand outs and ain't a damn thang free
And if you don't know that by now, you will never know
You know what I'm saying, you wanna shine you get your grind on
[Hook: Ronnie Spencer]
If you wanna shiiiiiii-iiiii-iiiine
(you wanna shine nigga, you gotta grind nigga
Because the only thing you wasting is your time nigga)
You wanna shine, you gotta grind
Cause the only thing you wasting is your time
One day you here and then you gone (so get your grind on)
[E.S.G.]
I seen a whole lot of niggaz, that I knew in the past
Use to be up on they feet, now they flat on they ass
I knew some athletes who thought, they game was the shit
But when draft day came, my niggaz didn't get picked
Now they ain't doing shit, but sitting around getting high
Niggaz thinking a million dollas, just gon fall out the sky
That's why I mash niggaz, and I stay thoed
24/7, hustling in the studio
Money comes money go, so I must invest
My dues more boys like D-O-C, and have a god damn wreck
I know some niggaz who'd rather, sit around on they porch and smoke
Instead of taking they ass to work, they get paid in truck note
Now depending on mama, ain't gon last forever
See I fell off before, but I got my act together
I know some niggaz got rap, contracts for mills
Didn't grind in the studio, and they lost they motherfucking deals
[Hook]
[E.S.G.]
Now this ain't all about niggaz, I know some trifling hoes
Rather get they hair fixed, than by they kids some clothes
These hoes rather go, to the club every night
Until she came home, and wasn't no gas and lights
Now when shit don't go right, people love to blame another
When a buster get caught, he run and tell them undercovers
Y'all sorry motherfuckers, I ain't gon say it no mo'
And broke niggaz get jealous, when a playa got do'
But if you know like I know, they say it's hell for a hustler
In this white man's world, see everybody's trying to fuck ya
Kin folks be the worst, they'll fuck a nigga first
Like them dopefiend uncles, stealing your grandma purse
Gotta peep my verse, it's all fact not fiction
We all started in the ghetto, from the same position
Don't get mad you ain't listen, you chose to skip class
Should of made you some cash, with your unemploy'd ass
[Hook]
[E.S.G.]
Tick-tock, Cardier watch still ticking
Your partnas getting the head, you in the bed bullshitting
Now everybody trying to claim, you owe 'em some'ing
Because we all started out, on the same block pumping
I'm trying to have 'em jumping, to the message I'm sending
Got bills to pay, ain't no time to leaning
If you ever been broke, I know you boys know the feeling
Now what would you do, you had your hands on a million
It prolly wouldn't last, brand new S-Class
By the time you bought a house, you back on your ass
I'm on some Bill Gates shit, some Microsoft shit
Create a new computer chip, and build my own cruise shit
Get down with your keep, promote some fights and shit
Call Quentin Tarantino, go half on a flick
Prolly invest in some melons, so when my folks get sick
If we'd get off our ass, we'd have all kinds of shit
[Hook]
[Ronnie Spencer]
Ain't you tired, of sitting down
Waiting for the first, to roll around
Bill ain't paid, rent is due
Stand up and be a man, it's all on you
You wanna shiiiiiii-iiiii-iiiine
You wanna shine, you gotta grind
Cause the only thing you wasting, is your time
(so get your grind on)
You wanna shine, you gotta grind
Cause the only thing you wasting, is your time
You wanna shine, you gotta grind
Cause the only thing you wasting, is your time
(so get your grind on)
One day you here, and then you gone
. . .
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