作曲 : Pimp C/Kenneth Moore/Derrick Dixon/Derrick Haynes
(Chorus: Noke D)
I'm talking cash, mother****er
Gripping grain, swanging lanes
We talking cash, mother****er
Candy paint on all them
Range We talking cash, mother****er
Don't try to stop my mother****erne
We talking cash, mother****er
Cause I tussle on the mind
I'm talking cash, mother****er- 4x [Big Moe
It's Big Moe
I stepped up in the door
Out the Southside mother****er
I'm far from a hoe
I ain't even scared and you know
I'm down to wreck it
I'ma hit the bed
Moe-Yo gone get naked
Got to strap my glock, got to strap my ding-a-ling
Out the Southside,
Moe-Yo gone sing sing
I'ma swing swing, crawl down slow
It's that
Big Moe and you know
I'm no hoe
I'ma knock down that hoe
Toni Braxton
It's Moe-Yo come down there hating hoes
I'm taxing ?
Slacking sleeping off? you can't be talking about my click
You know it's
Wreckshop, hating hoes be on a nigga's dic
It's that boy
Moe, I'm out the
Southside
I done came down,
Moe-Yo I'm gone chop
Ain't gone stop to the
T-O-P I creep
I'm putting it down from the
M-O to the
E My ****in
Noke Deezy, all about his cheezy
It's the Moe-
Yo claimin' bitches got to be greas
Got to keep it wet, on the mic
I be's a vet
I'm coming down five thousand gotta get my check
If you want me to be on your song, or sing a damn hook
It gotta be five grand ****in
I'm coming down cool
With my bitches wha
Blue U Out the
Southside,
M-O-E a damn fool
With my partner
D-Reck, hoes they been checked
It's that
Wreckshop, earning paper and our respect
And my brother
K-Luv, my nigga
Big Toon Knocking down soon,
Moe-Yo gotta get a room
At the end of the ****ing night,
I'm gone be ****ing
It's that
Moe coming down,
I do the gangsta strutting
My nigga Kin
One, let's have fun
My partners
Keke, Weets, the
Lil Red coming down on hard
My nigga Hig
G, you know he's down with me
M-O to the
E, from the 1, 2, 3
The Wreckshop tree, that's where
I be from
Partner Silly
Yo coming down on ****ing hard (Chorus) [Pimp C
Since I was 17,
I've been sipping on sip
Bitch-ass niggas come through empty out the cli
I love old school cars, with candy ass paint
Your other bitchess bitches cause them other ****ers f
You hollin' you a killa but
I know you ain't no killa
I see you in the street ****e
I'm a trill ass ****e
And now since the eighties, putting ****ers dow
Letting mother****ers hear all that bass aroun
I ride an
Impala, don't pop my collar
Coming through the record company, want all my dollas
You ain't got my paper ****er, you don't get no ****e
And I ain't put my ****er in the uh you wrecke
Cause tramp hoes be talking, on the pilla walking
Out the street get them hoes, telling em bout all your clothes
And your car sitting on gold, and how much you get at shows
You shouldn't trust that ****er, that ****er will get you hi
I see it all the time, ****ers get knocked on the grin
Keep it ten with that wife, coming back in the middle of the night
Say ****er you need to stop, you need to sell some drug
You need to get off them rocks, and get on private yachts
I'm talking bout they cousin, coming through ****ing buzzin
Drinking on hennessy, ****er you don't kno
Pimp C You late on the slab, coming through whipping ass
I whip it up in the lab, and put it out like it's dark around (Chorus)