Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Jay Worthy
Jay Worthy
Vocals
Harry Fraud
Harry Fraud
Programming
Ramirez
Ramirez
Vocals
Loose Ends
Loose Ends
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ramirez
Ramirez
Songwriter
Jeffrey Sidhoo
Jeffrey Sidhoo
Songwriter
Rory William Quigley
Rory William Quigley
Songwriter
Carl McIntosh
Carl McIntosh
Songwriter
Carol Thompson
Carol Thompson
Songwriter
Jane Eugene
Jane Eugene
Songwriter
Sam Bergliter
Sam Bergliter
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Harry Fraud
Harry Fraud
Producer
John Sparkz
John Sparkz
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

It's a rainy night in Georgia That's what I heard But I was out in Morgan With the homey sellin' birds Hit the interstate mashing, still smashing No smoking in the car to keep the Police from asking Couple offers for the set, I report em, we brackin' Passing thru Eugene, I hit a hotel Popping at the bitches selling pussy at the motel It's a lot going' on on the Interstate 5 I knocked a bitch out in Seattle, told her hope in my ride Ima take her to the vin, show her how to get to it Cross the border like its nothing slapping P-funk music Mmos fixed me up a plate, I'm eating good now Everytime I drop a tape, they say P Worthy make the hood proud Street legend, that what I claim I really mean that Since the days of 99 I swear to God, I really mean that 13 selling quarter ounces if you need that Return of the Mack, not pimping They send the P back I attract the low track, I told her bring it all back I just want to ride Daytons, take trips, and break hoes Fake niggas, hate on us, can't cope I just want to buy myself a Low-Low And my mama a Benz Cop a first class ticket spend the loot with my friends I just want to ride Daytons, take trips, and break hoes Fake niggas, hate on us, can't cope I just want to buy myself a Low-Low And my mama a Benz Cop a first class ticket spend the loot with my friends Scugging in the bucket trying to get myself a Mil' Serving on the corner, hugging pavement Gripping steel Champagne dreaming, hoping one day make it real Until that day come, I'm posted scraping up my scril' I carry all my emotions deep inside this foam cup Puffing on these herbal essences lonely in the cut Visions of that candy paint dripping off the trunk Daytons man they call me coming straight from out the mud And if it don't make dollars then it wont make no sense The only language that Rami can speak is making ends I push a hard line for my momma and my friends I was hoping i could take her from the hood, and put her in a Benz House in the hills, purse full of mils Closet full of heels, eating thousand dollar meals I'm gonna break you out this game, cause the streets is getting cold Be careful who you gon' trust and always be on your toes Safer and solid in your words I'd rather be respected than liked, that shit is earned Now look into the eyes of a motherfuckin' boss I can tell you about this life, and I can tell you what it cost Bitch I just want to ride Daytons, take trips, and break hoes Fake niggas, hate on us, can't cope I just want to buy myself a Low-Low And my mama a Benz Cop a first class ticket spend the loot with my friends I just want to ride Daytons, take trips, and break hoes Fake niggas, hate on us, can't cope I just want to buy myself a Low-Low And my mama a Benz Cop a first class ticket spend the loot with my friends
Writer(s): Rory William Quigley, Ivan Ramirez, James Jeffery Sidhoo Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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