It's
Coolio with the
Flow lettin' you know to recognize
the real as we do big things
as you try to understand the mechanisms of a real player,
you know what I'm saying?
East
Oakland,
Big
Banks in the house, baby!
Never would trust a punk bitch,
cause they be talking behind your back, we're quick to
suck their dick.
Lips and lungs keep them sprung,
play it just like y 'all.
That hoe you trust is you be working me in that alcohol,
all in these box of drawers.
Bitch you can catch
me at the player's club.
Count me fat face
Franklin's with my nigga
J -Dub.
Been in corner after corner in my 300 coupe.
Stuffing and popping in my pocket,
we be popping like wool.
A tell of two cities,
gang from two players, hoe.
You putting too much on it,
niggas going fatter.
So many
If haters in my face, I be like, fuck it
Like I'm so sick,
I'm paper chasin' in my bucket
Don't know who that nowadays,
man, it ain't no tellin'
That's why I stay strapped
with the sucker rebellin'
It's in the bitch like
Seattle
Slip
That's just what players do
If you smart,
that bitch gon' handle a business and break you
The world better retrospect mine
I jump like a
Tec -9,
bustin' and cussin' with no discussion
My cypher consists of street
G's and
P's
They on they
P's and
Q's, workin' up gangsta tools
Stoppin' niggas in they tracks like
ABS
Puttin' hoes in your chest,
fuck your bulletproof vest
Comin' off like sneak ers,
overloadin' your speakers
I got the stop and go flow,
notorious for buzzin' hoes
Suck the free to the
E -N -D, my whole squad
Fucked your bra,
cause she was jockin' too hard
I love life and what it's showin', mate
The hoe and me,
got me all between them hips
Tryin' to kill the bitch, smokin'
Twamp
Sacks
Back to back, for many reasons
Got my strap in my lap,
cause it's jackin' season
Two players from the bag,
J -Dub and
Foe
Some real ass hustlers, fuck your whole trust
It don't stop, it just don't twist
Some pimpish ass shit
with a gangsta twist
It don't stop, it just don't twist
Some pimpish ass shit
with a gangsta twist
Gots to keep the bae on the
mickety map with hella raps
It ain't no question,
main verbatim stack the fattest tracks
Sacks as well as hoes,
ballers keep them fat knots
Made the transaction for pinky
rings with them fat rocks
J -Dub and
Rappin'
Foda got connected
Poppin' that game in which you
haters least expect it
Drop top, double
R's
Stackin' like
Escobar
Gotta get that paper
Us college players do it all
Up and comin', keepin' em runnin'
Damn, now they chasin' me
I never could understand that
player hate mentality
And ain't no such thing as
too much paper
Skrilla, a hundred, a hundred,
a hundred emoji
Ballin' out of control,
my soul's caught up in the rapture
Say,
J -Dub, I hear some niggas wanna blast ya
But I'm havin' money like a
player's supposed to
I can't bow down and play the
role like hoes do
Million dollar dreams, nigga,
money bustin' off the scene
I'm worth a gang of that cream
up on the triple beam
In between some lil' niggas
and some real niggas
To kill niggas, to feel nig gas
I'm just tryna get my scrill, nigga
It don't stop, it just don't quit
Some pimpish -ass shit with a gangster twist
J -Dub, it don't stop,
it just don't quit
Some pimpish -ass shit
with a gangster twist
Focus, it don't stop, it just don't quit
Some pimpish -ass shit with a gangster twist
It don't stop, it just don't quit
Some pimpish -ass shit with
a gangster twist
B .I .G.
MUSIC