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Space, Age-in baby |
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Right right right right |
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One time |
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Beyotch! |
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Yeah, you know how they like it baby, nigga you can't retire! |
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One: Too, Eightball |
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From nineteen-eighty, through eighty-eight |
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I Don't Stop Rappin like my first tapes |
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When I was broke, I used to sell em instantly (instantly) |
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One look, you could tell it was the pimp in me (pimp in me) |
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In eighty-nine, I went on tour with Eazy-E (Eazy-E) |
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A bunch of fine bitches tryin to sleep with me |
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Every night, sold out, turnin young hoes |
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Tell her baby, no doubt, stick this dick in yo' mouth |
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I smoked a lot of weed, I said a lot of rhymes |
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Always ****ed up in niggaz bitches all the time |
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Now I'm ridin on twenties wearin nice clothes |
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but ain't nuttin like pimpin hoes, and ridin Vogues |
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I live a good life, in my pursuit of happiness |
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I'm so glad, to get to the point of havin this |
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opportunity, for you and me to pass it on |
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Two years ago, I thought it'd be my last song |
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Me, Squeaky, Flex and J, on Saratoga Street |
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Smokin white boys, bumpin dopefiend beats |
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Eighty-eight, my pockets wasn't straight, but I was makin it |
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Niggaz like Lil' Tim was out there ballin sellin cakes n shit |
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I was right there, on the Mob Circle, writin raps |
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All about my snaps, tryin to put Ball and G on the map |
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Nowadays I own my shit and bone bad bitches |
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Kickin it with rich niggaz in rollers, and candy sixes |
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Deliverin hot shit like Pizza Hut for them hardcore thugs |
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Niggaz who pimp bitches and hit the highway with them drugs |
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Feel my flow, mix it in witcha chronic main |
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Dawg, I don't know why you tryin to leave this game |
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State to state, plenty hoes and plenty money to make |
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Writing raps, makin more than them niggaz movin weight |
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The game been good to me, and I know that muh****a bless you |
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Thanks for passin game, now let's get out here and make this loot |
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Too, Eightball, MJG |
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I won't stop rappin, I don't stop rappin |
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I got too much money bitch I can't stop rappin |
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We some presidential players, with money by the layers |
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Ain't nuthin you broke ass niggaz do that can fade us |
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I won't stop rappin, I don't stop rappin |
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I got too much money bitch I can't stop rappin |
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I drive fast cars, eat lunch by lakes |
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and meet a hundred different bitches when I drop new tapes |
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Two: MJG, Too |
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I had to sacrifice, get things right |
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In this rap life, I paid my dues |
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Learn how to crawl, before I walk |
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Then I learned how to tie my shoes |
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Tryin crime, but it just didn't work for me |
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Matter of fact it did it worse for me |
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Gettin eyes scarred, bein weak one time ya hard |
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It can only do hurt to me |
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So I sucked up my peer pressure, and my pride |
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And realized that this rap shit was gon help me to survive |
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Stay alive, go with the flow but don't be no muh****in fool |
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Hell this music thing is all I got, I ain't makin straight A's in school |
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And ain't wind up to be dumber nigga, only to be different |
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So all the shit that you think we are, the shit that we isn't |
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When you raised up, where I come from, make it out is a blessing |
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Cause half the cats, where I come from, don't ever learn they lessons |
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My first love, even before I had a daughter, or a lady |
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MJG, what you see, on TV, is fame |
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But the rapper I let loose almost anything, I love this game |
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I won't stop rappin, I don't stop rappin |
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I make too much money bitch I can't stop rappin |
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I live the fast life of a MC |
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and I sell a lot of records makin pimp beats |
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I could do a show tonight and make ten G's |
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**** til the mornin, sleep late and smoke weed |
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Three cars in my garage, truck in the driveway |
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I always, get my dick sucked on the highway |
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Three: Eightball, MJG |
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My way (pimp til I dieee) **** a hoe |
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Unless that hoe is breakin me off some dough, to hit the studio |
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Blowin, niggaz ain't knowin, how far this shit is goin |
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I wrote all my shit, but niggaz always talkin bout what I owe them |
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But I'm gon' show them, real niggaz stand on they own ten toes |
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So I'ma make all the money, and try my best to **** all these hoes |
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Friend or foe, a bitch or hoe, rich or po' |
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Eightball got flow, MJG |
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Here comes the one they call the P-I, M-P, never will retire |
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The tree-high, green leaf, helps me to get higher |
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Eightball and MJG, Too, we all must be |
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the pimps of the industry, shit people pretend to be |
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**** so why should we, settle down |
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Leave the kitchen put the kettles down |
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Stop from fillin all you hoes |
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Give up the life of trues and vogues |
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Hell no, it ain't gon' happen, this shit too deep |
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So I hooked up with my comrades so we can all get rich, nigga |
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Yea yea, one time, for your mother****in mind |
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Pimp shit bitch |
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Eightball and MJG, now what you weigh me |
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Dawg in the house, slammin Cadillac do's, pimpin hoes |
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Nuthin but the real shit, nine-eight, for these tricks it's too late |
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It's that old school pimpin all the way from Memphis, to Oakland |
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Straight smokin baby, fryin em up fat |
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Atlanta to Houston, we still doin it like this |
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Yea, New York to L.A. |
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Beyitch! |
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Hah, that's right, Space Age forever, nigga |
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T-Mix on the funk |
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Dangerous Music, uhh |
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Suave House |
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I love that! |
