watt through your box I come hotter than Treach, you bet about callin the cops Because (this type of funk you don't hear on the regular) Rock six seven
bark they turn your sunny days to dark You play the back like Rosa Parks when the arc sparks I bang rawly, do you orally My horny sounds will pound more
years He pounded out blood, sweat and tears One day he hung his hammer up He wanted to do the things he loved What once was Sunday fishin' Now was seven
[Intro] One pound for the hoe, that's all we need baby Just one for the hoes.. c'mon [Chorus] Pimp juice - oooooooooh-ooooooooh-hoooooooo I think I need
, ain't broke the do' seal Shit ain't been the same since I signed fo' reel This shit got ill, when I hit 4 mil Five and countin', dirty six at will Did seven
off I heard shots go off I'm a humble show-off I'll be beating when I roll off Pumping Jill Scott number seven in front of the seven-eleven Grab some
song, come on, we all spit it Get on with it, with all my niggas screamin', 'We did it' Love and war, thugs and whores Nickel-plated nines, three-pound-sevens
route thugs You know how mac play, quiet town, tie it down I supply it now, by the pound Might front you a cue if you buy a pound If you didn't try it
to my niggaz from get low the RBL my nigga cool nut 11/5 Bump this in yo seven ride get a show and bring you about seven die Mutha fuckaz startin' to
whole pound of that LA weed And im standing sharp please don't let that candy spark Shotgun tell your man to park can let yall niggaz jump L-way B On me seven
I remember when I was twelve years old No worries in my brain with a pound in my pocket And a chest full of smoke I remember all the chordies we drove
You'z a fool fo' dis, yeah My dogg hi-tek, representin' Cincinnati, Ohio Eastside shit, y'all know how we get down? Seven dizzles a wizzle, bigg bow wiggle
em right out of they clothes Never knew she was so disgustin' Fuckin, suckin' discussing over lunch and With her girlfriend, how I bangs it in For seven
muthafucka Fine, niggas don't wanna let him shine Niggas hate that fact Sauce don't give a fuckin' nine Soon as he ran his mouth, one tre pound seven
the soil and up in those trees 1-9-7-9 That was the year California would go blind My Momma had a son, a fully automated Gun 11 pounds seven ounces
you just resist I made a deal with de devil babe I won't deny Until I got you in my arms I can't be satisfied I got a pound of caviar sitting home
it don't even matter whose the highest Cause if it ain't dope Their ain't no hope They ain't gone buy it [Curren$y:] Yeeeaaa Quarter tank of gas in my seven
[Hook] All I ever wanted to do was live the life Money, drugs, cars, clothes hoes brick, paints, pounds of dro fa sho a young nigga living how he supposed