What it is man? Sup, Yung Joc, Block Entertainment Yeah, you wan' know somethin'? Whatchu wanna know nigga? I'ma take this motherfuckin' time to let y'all niggaz know I'm tired of playin' games, I'm tired of playin' witchu man Preach on, y'all niggaz comin' up short on your money Your re-up shit ain't right, nope, nope Your grams off nigga, get that shit right Tell 'em shawty, let me talk to y'all This ain't make believe so why the fuck is you playin' You better listen close to what the fuck I'm sayin' 'Cause really all it takes is a couple grand Like AT&T, I reach out and I touch a man Or I can let it go 'cause it ain't nuttin' man But naw it's the principle so fuck what you sayin' E'ry dollar I want it, e'ry dime I need that So when it's time to break bread gimme no feedback 'Cause you don't want to piss me off And I get to poppin' like we poppin' Cristal See I can't help it, that's just how we get down Let off a couple rounds, turn your smile to a frown Yeah, I know, you think I'm bluffin' 'Til I kick the do' and the goons they rush in Lay down on the flo' where you keep the coke in You say, "I don't know" then your blood start gushin' I done told your ass once, told your ass twice Fuckin' with my paper, you're fuckin' wit'cha life Don't play wit it, don't play wit it Don't play wit it, nigga, don't play wit it I done told your ass once, told your ass twice Fuckin' with my paper, you're fuckin' wit'cha life Don't play wit it, don't play wit it Don't play wit it, nigga, don't play wit it Here he come once again' Mr. Murder Man Smokin' on the purple bad, pistol in my other hand Fuckin' with my rubber bands, get your ass murdered fast Chop you up and chop ya, then stuff ya in a duffel bag Ride wit'cha in the trunk 'til ya smellin' bad Get your daughter after class, ride by snatch her ass I know a pussy nigga owe me a couple stack Pop him like he never had, but the nigga holdin' back I ain't trippin' now I'm lettin' 'em pass, got that ass So I'm in the good, nigga smokin' like a thermostat Flashin' hella stacks, pie nigga Pontiac Actin' for these hoes with my money, what kinda shit is that? I ain't feelin' that, pay me for my fuckin' pack E'ry dime off e'ry zone, don't gimme that See it time for the chrome, go on pull it out Sad Sunday service for the sucker in the parking lot I done told your ass once, told your ass twice Fuckin' with my paper, you're fuckin' wit'cha life Don't play wit it, don't play wit it Don't play wit it, nigga, don't play wit it I done told your ass once, told your ass twice Fuckin' with my paper, you're fuckin' wit'cha life Don't play wit it, don't play wit it Don't play wit it, nigga, don't play wit it Better know the repercussions fuckin' with my dividends Yeah, I got a hitman for the hitmen Leave your baby momma numb and I touch many fans If ye ain't tryin' to see it, I suggest you start prayin' All I'm sayin', don't try to play me like I'm soft Treat you like mosquitoes when I skeet you with that off That Joc crawl blood, nigga call me Red Cross Leave your wig leakin' like you spilled spaghetti sauce Fuckin' with my paper, ye ain't right I'ma send them gators, in the middle of the night Let 'em split your tater, in front your wife No one can save ya, put out your lights You're fuckin' with my paper, ye ain't right I'ma send them gators, in the middle of the night Let 'em split your tater, in front your wife No one can save ya, put out your lights I done told your ass once, told your ass twice Fuckin' with my paper, you're fuckin' wit'cha life Don't play wit it, don't play wit it Don't play wit it, nigga, don't play wit it I done told your ass once, told your ass twice Fuckin' with my paper, you're fuckin' wit'cha life Don't play wit it, don't play wit it Don't play wit it, nigga, don't play wit it It's the big dawg, Diesel Yung Joc in the building, ya heard me? © BLOCK ENTERPRISES, LLC; GRANNY MAN PUBLISHING; DWAYNE CARTER PUB DESIGNEE; WARNER-TAMERLANE PUBLISHING CORP; MASTER MIND MUSIC INC; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com