Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Boldy James
Boldy James
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Alan Maman
Alan Maman
Composer
James Clay Jones III
James Clay Jones III
Lyrics
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Eddie Sancho
Eddie Sancho
Mixing Engineer
Joe La Porta
Joe La Porta
Mastering Engineer
The Alchemist
The Alchemist
Producer

Lyrics

Oh, wow It's one of those, huh That's how we playin'? These niggas playin' dirty These niggas playin' foul Where we at? (uh) When I be on the west side Niggas know that I rotate with Percival In the streets, it's for keeps with us So don't take it personal (uh uh) When them city slickers beatin' down your block This shit is strictly business E.P.M.D, everybody plottin' my demise (blocks) I marvel at the sight of 'caine I love to watch it rise If this was love at first site Then we was lockin' eyes (where we at?) Got a fetish for them butter babies who love the ladies Just as much as I do, ain't gon' up if I ain't got to Could've shot you, but you pussy I ain't have to, but I took it When I robbed him, he like "Boldy, please don't kill me, shit'll cook me" I ain't run off with your work Bitch, I took it (take that, take that) Take a nigga brick, slap him, then you sell it back to them You still in Brooklyn? This the proof in the puddin' (uh) Told my plug to leave me some room if it's any cushion (package) The center of attention Fresh out of central bookin' (blockworks) My niggas wolves in sheep's clothing and all you niggas woofin' Where we at? Nigga you tell me Went to the principal for help She just expelled me Gotta toss a sack right off of Macktown and Bellvie Them I caught some Act' across the track That shit derailed me Stay with my old faithful 'cause she never fail me Gotta keep that hammer close for niggas tryna nail me to the cross Brodie say, "Get 'em gone", we gon' finish niggas off It's whatever niggas on Tell him tell it to his boss Oh, they took all the tabs and the gel caps Tell that pussy nigga run and tell that Better boss up, lil' nigga Or get bossed down, gang When I be on the east side Niggas know that I'm tied in with mob heads Press 'em, fresh out of prison Put that chicken on an opp head (brr) Strapped with that maggy, that's an automatic five fig' Give a fuck about goin' back He just happy that he not dead (he alive) 'Cause when you ridin' roachies on the drop head You gotta keep a clip full of heat seekers for the hot heads (cops) Walkin' out of Gucci with a six, papa bought a brickie Played it off, copped my bitch some kicks out of Foot Locker (big bag) 'Fore we drove them roxies through the fire we was script poppers Deuce of Mortongrove had me higher than a witch doctor (right) Big fiber on my solar plex, since he wanna flex (gang time) Uppin' on 'em, make a pussy come up out his rolodex (you know it) Big body on chrome, '96 Impala (big body) It's a lack of respect Without the money and the power (know what I mean) Was so impressed the first time I cooked a brick of powder (remix) It made me wanna get out here, grit up a million dollars
Writer(s): Alan Maman, James Clay Jones Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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