Niggaz Like Us

Lyrics

Ah, shit Oh yeah, we got the motherfuckers organizing rounds in the house We got Jay Smooth, Killabee, A-Walk, and M-M-J-J We keep the shit out for the bitches in Tennessee Killabee kick Once again, Killabee can't a drop another one Another bummer jam to make all the bitches run to the stage And get their panties all soaking wet It's time to jet, so get your funky ass up and say Roll up a joint and let the song get fucked up Poppin' a tape, but that funky ass fucked up MDG got my back, so call me back me up Just in case some motherfucker try to jack me up Ape pop, pass the chicken to the right, let me get up up Ha, that's a motherfuckin' kite, just ain't good enough So stop at the liquor store, grab a fifth of Coney Yeah, roll by the crib, all shit, I forgot the gap Let's go to the club and choose up on some bitches G But if they ain't too wonder, let's fuck up their memory Take em to the crib, get em high on the G.O Drop the ass off and do the same to the next hoax When it comes to game, I'm the player, the rep, the coach You can't approach the niggas with the most hoes So all you fools out there, let's try to spy that bus Get off my dick, cause you can't fuck with some niggas Fuck with, fuck with, fuck with, fuck with carbon, take a fuck with, fuck with, fuck with, fuck with carbon Take a fuck with, take a fuck with, fuck with, fuck with carbon Fuck with, fuck with, fuck with, fuck with, fuck with carbon Dimension, he hit the set, so I reached for the ass straight To roll up the road just to start smoking and give away Sunday, 9, 8, 9, 8, 9 V-sumps on my page, ya Niggas fuck with you, niggas fuck with you, yeah, niggas fuck with you Can't fuck the legacy, the whole fuck is King G The planet's landin' planet, hoes juckin' on my Jimmy Give me the proof so I can do what I can't just do Get fucked up or either fuck me or sketch it to There's the bag of chicken and the 1.5 So I can fuck a junkie trip as it tightens my eyes Four real niggas with a thing for guns and shit But also gettin' funky on the lyric of Tip Orange-bound born so I warn stupid suckas You can tell some TSM be a dead motherfucker Holes on the tip, niggas slip and get ganked Rackers in the stow, pullin' hoes and get spanked Run of the mill, punks jumpin' on my ding-a-ling When all I wanna do is find a dick-suckin' freak and say Back on the hell, from Bud Smoke and Poetry The chick and I'm kickin', that's why the real niggas knowin' me Rockin' the crowds and you know they won't quit screamin' Hey, Bob, kick that shit In a Cadillac Mac, my nigga fuck the bus Come to OTS to find niggas like us