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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Song: | H.H.E.H. |
Album: | | Genres: | |
Year: | | Length: | 0 sec |
Lyricist: Beanie Sigel
Lyrics:
Ay Lo, run to the fridge and pop that other bottle of Cris' homey I'm off the weed but I'm back on my juice nigga Pour me up an ounce and a couple of th epurps
[Beanie Sigel] As I skate through the city in that black cuatro You fake Willies frontin like you got dough until I prove 'em it's not so I shine like a brand new penny from that Franklin Mint That black Masi', it don't make no cents/sense But to drive and make dollars, your pockets flat like tires Your money still ALL SLOW like new drivers I pop more than the collar You niggas poppin cheap-ass bottles of Moet That bullshit Chandon, that little chick on your arm be long gone When she recognize a real don I'm in the club in the cut sippin on aged grapes Laughin at them brolic car thieves, in their slim-ass jeans and Bath' Apes Lookin half gay, halfway out of the closet You don't believe me, nigga ask Sway What the fuck is that? You niggas need to be slapped Whoever co-signed bein a sucker wasn't stacked
HHEH! {*echoes*} HHEH! {*echoes*}
[Beanie Sigel] Uhh, sit back, relax, let's rap for taste Track 10 from the fits, peep my old head face You see if real niggas respect it, the squares gon' rep it I'm guessin, that's why this bullshit keep progressin But I ain't stressin, nigga class in session I'm here to teach you a lesson like KRS'n 'Criminal, Minded, you've been blinded' Lookin for a nigga like Sig', you won't find it I'm a dinosaur~! You niggas more like What I look for in a whore, heh, PUSSY! Nuttin more, nuttin less, I'm nuttin to second guess I'm him, point blank period, the end When I'm long gone, they gon' dig up my bones And study my poems and learn I was MORE than the gun in the song Even though I spit a gat Quicker than I spit a rap, now go 'head sonny, run along
HHEH! {*echoes*} HHEH! {*echoes*}
[Beanie Sigel] Now when that sizzurp in my system, ain't no tellin Will I bust that four-fifth and, catch another felon' I'm a thug by blood, not just off drugs Even though I love, that purple mug UHH, drunk off syrup, perks and zaneesSpit a word make a bird lose her skirt and her panties (and them panties) I know it's been a while, since I left a stain on your brain Gave you some game that you can gain from I'm here to end it now Break the cycle of that bullshit same ol' same, that these lames run It's a shame it's they names where they came from These niggas fly-by-nights, they couldn't fly my kite Tie my shoes, lace my boots They money run short, they couldn't chase my loot Paper small like Coupes, I'm that Sport sittin butter soft He nothin but a boss - who? Me - Sig', but of course
HHEH! {*echoes*} HHEH! {*echoes*}
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