Tekst Utworu

Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on) Do the damn thang Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on) Do the damn thang Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on) Do the damn thang Come on, let's start this shit Shawty, let's crank this shit A little sumethin' for them hatin' hoes Who gets nothin' but them knees and boes Why y'all all in my grill? Why y'all can't keep it real? Always tryin' to plot and scheme Wanna live this life is just a dream Ain't no one in teams All the real niggas know what it mean Catch me, y'all just to slow Hatin' hoes gotta let y'all go Don't never try to stop my flo' Won't tell you this shit no mo' Da baddest hoe that you ever seen Two triple O, shawty 'bout that green Naw they don't understand These niggas don't understand These muthafuckers think we playin' See they don't know what we sayin' Fake niggas in our grill Fake niggas all in our grill These niggas don't wanna get to it These niggas don't wanna do it Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on) Do the damn thang Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on) Do the damn thang You can tell a real nigga from the fake fake A trill nigga that's down in the cake cake A hot girl that's clean not stank stank Some bad weave for somebody So you took a little drank So I guess it made you think that you could when you can't Wit' the N, wit' the ain't Ain't nobody got time round here to playing round Sucka wit' the big sack nigga better lay it down Comin' through ain't bout that shady shit Boy I'm mo' dirty than Dusty Rhodes I drop the beat and rock the flo' Representing that Que Bo Gold So don't you try to test us out thinkin' we country wit' no skills 'Cuz I drop the bass and tame the bass Put this fire to yo' grill Well, I was born in Illinois, okay ah Raised in Atlanta, G-A yeah, lived in New York and L.A., yeah My nigga, I'm da shit no matter where I stay 'Cuz, uh, I wuz cut like that, lil' buddy, I'm stacked like that From da front to da side to da back, Rasheeda, and I'm tight like that I ain't never been worried bout anotha Cutter her buddy, lil' buddy, I don't studder 9 double lock chrome for the lame lame Big faces in my pocket not the chump change Ride the Benz with the wood grain, grilled out, smoke frame With the knock knock 38 pop pop all you haters just stop or you gone get dropped Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on) Do the damn thang Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on) Do the damn thang Stick 'em, ha ha ha, stick 'em Fuck dem pussy niggas and who ever wit' 'em All I say is sic 'em and there go my boys, D-S-G-B, Pastor damn Troy Boy, you ain't ready, boy, you don't want it Boy we ain't ready, bitch get disappointed Shit, all I know is southern blo'd not lower than a dime From thirty piece to quarter ki, we strictly on da grind No time to spit no evidence, no evidence, no charge Since they ain't got no evidence, I gave them my lil' boy The scars from my hand as I crank up the speaker Drop the bomb on you bitches, Pastor and Rasheeda Bitch, do it Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on) Do the damn thang Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on now) Do it (Come on) Do the damn thang
Writer(s): Damon Yul Wimbley, Rasheedah W. Frost, Micah Le Var Troy, D. Robinson, M. Morales, Karesha J. Jones, Niqua Todd Jones Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out