Video musical

That's The Way-(featuring Fabolous, Foxy Brown and Mase)
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Créditos

PERFORMING ARTISTS
DJ Clue
DJ Clue
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Richard Finch
Richard Finch
Songwriter
Harry Wayne Casey
Harry Wayne Casey
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
DJ Clue
DJ Clue
Producer
Ken "Supa Engineer" Duro
Ken "Supa Engineer" Duro
Mixing Engineer

Letra

I thought Duro was an old man before I met her Check this out right, this is me M-A dollar sign E (C'mon, C'mon) Thorough, too thorough, Harlem World be the burough Cool 'da Love up above (that's right) Can't forget my family (who 'dat be?) Cardan & KFC Blinky Blink & D-R-E (Uh-Huh) (Uh-Huh) Cluemanati, We Like It (Uh-Huh) Mase too smooth, call me debonair Hits every year, so shake your derriere (C'mon) Cops pull me over, what they don't feel it fair? What a brother, too black, me living here? We don't stare, I don't care, I'm know I'm there Twenty years old and about to be a millionaire What you think? Cause Mase be young, Mase be dumb And if you get Mase strung, that'll be no pre-nup Ever since Big died, my whole life changed I done blew, I'm your boo, that seem quite strange I get nice things, way out your price range Half these girls, don't even know my right name I'm fly rolie, mink made of coyote Love a ghetto hoe, I know she die fo' me You got me confused, see Cam the freak Mase never the type nigga to bring sand to the beach I something that the average ho's hand couldn't reach Living in expenses, 20 grand a week You know me, I be O-T, low-key Icy roli, smoke a O-z I'm a baby face nigga, without no goatee And I'm 2.8 and about to blow 3 Now that's the way (Uh-Huh, uh-huh), We like It (Uh-Huh, uh-huh) That's the way (uh-huh, uh-huh) We like it 3x Now you can tell I blew, push the 740 L-I through Eyes low, from the L-I-Q If you was hot, you'd be going through this hell I do Give alias to any female I screw One running with Fabolous, who knew as well as I do Every fed in the country wanna nail my crew Before I hit the tens, I'm getting bailed by Clue Be back downtown, bagging chicks at L-I-U Cause money ain't a thing no more, I use to sling the raw Now I'm off in spring to tour in Singapore Might catch me getting head from a bilingual whore Who never seen so many diamonds in her ring before I'm a boasting fly bro, soon to lay up on a coast of Cairo Roast the hydro, type of cat you would say, is supposed to lie low And V two shades with the toast and the Tahoe We the niggas that be getting it and throwing minks on Cubans to the belly, and still throwing links on Ya'll cats know me, I be throwing clinks on And be loving the bitches, we be throwing drinks on Did you know that I, simply got these cats where I want 'em and... (Uh) See the 6 then I want 'em in It ain't a secret, bet that I slide 'em with something I could freak with And do that freak shit And I'm stepping in hotter, like Don Dada Snatch my Prada, ya hoes done done nada Make you never wanna flash your shit Like when you see my crew you wanna stash your shit If do violate, then I will crash your shit If you think you was a'ight, I will blast your shit Ya know me, chick that ride the dick slowly Use to be O-T, now I'm 2.3 (Uh) Same bitch that ya'll loving to hate Be that same chick, that you praying will fake And I solemnly swear, we'll rep to the death Ya heard? (uh, uh, uh) Fuck you think this is? If you broke, then I be off, do mine, ski off And, ain't no love, just trying to get my thing off Unless there's some princesses on the wrist Or some chrome on the 6, he ain't seeing my shit Oh yeah, it's not a game, I do my thing Scan to a change, cop the platinum range To end...
Writer(s): Christopher Frantz, Tina Weymouth, Adrian Belew, Harry Wayne Casey, Finch, Steven J.c. Stanley Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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