Teledysk

Dostępny w

Kredyty

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Fabolous
Fabolous
Vocals
Snoop Dogg
Snoop Dogg
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ernesto Shaw
Ernesto Shaw
Songwriter
Kenneth Ifill
Kenneth Ifill
Songwriter
John David Jackson
John David Jackson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Duro
Duro
Mixing Engineer
Tom Coyne
Tom Coyne
Mastering Engineer
Paul Gregory
Paul Gregory
Recording Engineer

Tekst Utworu

Yeah Walk with me west coast Yeah It's the coast to coast G on the check in Yeah ride ride ride If you ain't up on things Fabulous is the name, street fam's the game Screamin' seven one eight while them hammers bang Like bludda ludda lacca bludda ludda lacca Kick game like I know a little bit of socca Spic, dames, ass and a little bit of knockas Give them nick names and a little bit of vodka Then I'm game change a very freaky girl You know who got the gold like the kid from the last dragon You know who got the low on the spokes and the ass saggin' You know who got the gold that'll have your ass gaggin' You know who got the boat that'll have the task naggin' But I fuck bitches and get money My truck switches, you gotta duck bitches When you get twenties and plug switches That make you sit funny, I'm a rider If you ain't up on things (Don't come close to me) (Unless you ride like you supposed to be) If you ain't up on things (Don't come close to me) (Unless you pimpin' like you supposed to be) If you ain't up on things (Don't come close to me) (Unless you banging like you supposed to be) If you ain't up on things (Don't come close to me) (Unless you gangsta like you supposed to be) C'mon you know its g's up C.O.'s down If I freeze up, its kilos now Pick trees up its three four pounds Fill the bees up 'til these bro's drown I snatch a few G's up and flea those towns Busta's freeze up when my V slow down I ease up with these four pounds Squeeze up to three four rounds I pick these up its G code now Y'all better call the D's up before I reload now I'm the boss somethin' like Springsteen I got somethin' that bring green, that look somethin' like stringbeans I make sure the hustlers keep somethin' to sling the fiends White, yellow, and a little somethin' that bling green We going to blast if we going I been doing This since Jabber was hooking off the glass in the forum Your grandparents has to assume 'Cuz the face look like a magnifying glass on the poem (Oh boy!) If you ain't up on things (Don't come close to me) (Unless you ride like you supposed to be) If you ain't up on things (Don't come close to me) (Unless you pimpin' like you supposed to be) So my niggas, they get money Throw your motherfucking hand in the air And if you up on things and you don't give a fuck Let me hear y'all niggas scream oh yeah oh yeah And all my bitches, they get money Throw your motherfuckin' hand in the air And if you up on things and you don't give a fuck Let me hear y'all bitches scream "Oh yeah" It's the kid with the D O double G After blowing three four dubs of trees My eyes are below double G's After sipping pin O bubbly skee O rubbing me We'll probably go below publically I'm a coast to coast G, I keep the toast to mostly For those who pose to closely backup Keep a piece in the vest, that's how we ride From the north to the south to the east to the west So my niggas, they get money Throw your motherfucking hand in the air And if you up on things and you don't give a fuck Let me hear y'all niggas scream "Oh yeah" All my bitches, they get money Throw your motherfuckin' hands in the air And if you up on things and you don't give a fuck Let me hear y'all bitches scream "Oh yeah oh yeah"
Writer(s): Calvin Broadus, Ernesto Shaw, John Jackson, Ken Ifill Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out