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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Otis Jackson Jr
Otis Jackson Jr
Drum Machine
James Yancey
James Yancey
Drum Machine
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
James Yancey
James Yancey
Songwriter
Byron Simpson
Byron Simpson
Songwriter
Otis Jackson Jr
Otis Jackson Jr
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Otis Jackson Jr
Otis Jackson Jr
Producer
James Yancey
James Yancey
Producer

Lyrics

It's what you see It's not hard to believe Let's go Turn it up, live, niggaz, throw it up It's the official, we got the bank for ya, go You can catch Guilty Simpson at a rave with babes Packin' a .38 snub and a razor blade, uh Thug shit in a major way I kick ya dog's ass like a Flavor Flav Thug niggaz with guns beneath leathers If you know better, keep ya bitch on tether Niggaz got snow like cold, cold weather And big money clips 'cause they fold dough better Yeah, packin' three cuties in the Hemi I be runnin' hoes like Luke in Miami So I hit her, gotta get the half of my Jimmy I don't mean to pimp that hard, it's just in me Got a sick flow and a couple of pistols Got this thick chick Coco from Cisco The same day I met her, we backstage in the bathroom She got a mouth like a vacuum, uh We them boys with the chains on our neck Every five minutes we untanglin' them It's Pay Jay make sure the name on the check Jay Dee in the turnin' lane with ya ex, like Los Angeles And the nights are scandalous Thick like big bread basket sandwiches Choke on that, we smoke on bats And put a hole through the horse on your Polo hat And leave the shit smokin' where the logo at And the witnesses won't tell po-po jack, uh That's how it is when we fuck shit up (Kill it) People hoes horny and the blunts lit up (Feel it) Yup, real talk y'all I met this girl last night She whispered in my ear like Baby, you're the one Baby, take me home tonight Baby, lay me down Baby, girl it's only right Baby, you're the one Baby, you're the one for me Baby (Yeah) You should be havin' my baby (Turn it up) You should be havin' my baby It's the official, make the wrist glow Think it's a disco when I ran Bisco If you feelin' it, where your Earl Flynn at? Cut the check, Tim tell 'em where to send at That you coming in phat Tell me where ya friends at Kay moved to the valet where the Benz at Let's be Out ridin' high Girls stop when they see the clique ridin' by, on jock They ain't invited unless they gon' drop You do it how I like it and make it go pop If all's agreed, we got weed Skatin' through the area movin' at Mach speed Makin' moves is a must, why bother doin' it If what y'all doin' ain't 'bout dollars? All my — girls always lookin' for me My kids' moms always lookin' for me They lookin' good for me You what? You gon' stick with her or me? Damn girl, you always givin' the third degree, you still my (Baby) Always keepin' me up on my toes Unless I'm out creepin' on do's or sleepin' with hoes Still my (Baby) Cakes with cakes upon cakes (Hey, where my money at?) Keep a nigga spendin' papes Turn it up another notch Yeah, that's how we doin' it Broadcasting, live from WBBE You know how we do it We got a special guest in the house He goes by the name of Dave New York Dave, we talkin' 'bout, hip hop and radio Dave, where you at with it? How do I feel about radio hip-hop? I think it's wack Most of the shit they play is straight garbage
Writer(s): James Dewitt Yancey, Otis Lee Jr. Jackson, Byron Simpson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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