Clip Up (Reloaded)

Lyrics

[Intro: Sheek Louch] Yeah, Donnie Hey yo, Jada, what up, fam? Huh, D-Block Hey you ready, you ready to go in or what? Yeah, alright, clip up then, nigga Donnie [Verse 1: Sheek Louch] Hey yo Can I get any higher? They say Sheek on fire I feel like Def Jam just signed (?) I been a G since I was chewin' on a pacifer I keep that Nick Cannon with me, no Mariah They say the hood is mine It's like a nigga was born again to win Sheek Louch, Donnie Frankenstein My (?) is pretty as (?), ain't it? Porsche Turbo, about to get that bitch painted Lucky Luciano, a.k.a. Piano Man It's the (?) keys, three or four a piece Percocet Louch, bags of Oxys These little niggas with me on the dust high So I recommend your faggot ass to walk by Or touch the sky Or pray to Allah Don Don, I'm all about the mighty dollar Let's keep it real, y'all know the deal I'm worse than that BP oil spill Ten thousand may get you a walkthrough, a little less dependin' who you talk to I come through see these (?) lights I'm a wolf, black version of Twilight These rap niggas too big, they make-up bright (?) It's a rap stick-up, I heard your album But like the city, I come back (?) What'chu know about Don Don? Fully automatic on the shouler with straps on L dot, O dot, X the projects Group homes, the chills, the street where we reps We sorry if this ain't for iTunes D-block, this here's for my goons [Chorus: Sheek Louch] Cock back, clip up Cock back, clip up Cock back, clip up Cock back, clip up [Verse 2: Jadakiss] Broad day, no mask on, don't make me clap it My best customers is Souljah Boy and Ricky (?) Just Casino, no spades or pitty pats (?) It's goin' down in the hood, nigga, plenty action I'm doin' addition, you doin' subtraction My crew on a mission, your crew is relaxin' Guess who in the kitchen? Guess who movin' packs in? Public information, these are proven facts If I ain't with the O.G.s, I'm down (?), somewhere hot with no breeze Dinner with young millionaires that sold keys Now they just sit back, talk shit, and blow trees My outfit's unwearable, my shoes don't fit you, my pain's unbearable Niggas that listen to my shit ain't hearing you I been that nigga, dawg, you always been terrible That's why the label ain't flarin' (?) you The day you decide to come through, we airin' you [Chorus: Sheek Louch] Cock back, clip up Cock back, clip up Cock back, clip up Cock back, clip up [Verse 3: Styles P] Get accolades from the crooks Macro, way before Apple made the book Real gangster, all the honeys have to take a look No pets in the buildin' but they have to take a wolf Get at you but look at you, you're a (?) on the hook I'm a gettin' money nigga but I'm grimey with the (?) Name a block that his jeweler's on It'll be the same block his medulla's on New M-5, new Frank Mueller on Yeah, I'm a boss but I still get my shooter on Like a kid who you around, I take long shots, NBA shoot-around Get the homie to pull the hoop around Get your girl and pull the coup around The only thing you missin' is the glitter Follow niggas, we ain't even talkin' 'bout Twitter [Outro: Sheek Louch] What'chu know about Don Don? Fully automatic on the shouler with straps on L dot, O dot, X the projects Group homes, the chills, the street where we reps We sorry if this ain't for iTunes D-block, this here's for my goons Cock back, clip up Cock back, clip up Cock back, clip up Cock back, clip up