|
作词 : Mosley, Thomas |
|
My whole crew is platinum |
|
Quick to throw it down with Magnums |
|
We ain't duckin' when the guns start blastin' |
|
What's happenin' |
|
West Coast rollin', Benjamins foldin' |
|
****** bank accounts holdin', more loot than the jews |
|
And I just stepped fresh up out some county blues |
|
Had me all on the news, cuz I'm gettin' my paper |
|
And my goal life now is livin' it major |
|
Coppin' Crystal, Champagne |
|
I'm in the 'Natti with the blow brains |
|
Leavin' my mansion up in Spokane |
|
The **** Game, was lovely |
|
Out with the flip rollos and drop Benzes when they clucked me |
|
Now the haters wanna mug me, cuz I'm AMG kid candy on some dub leech |
|
But ****** them tricks cuz they haters |
|
They stick out like short thumbs around Playaz |
|
[Chorus x2] |
|
All I wanna do is get my paper straight |
|
Roll up highways sideways out the gates |
|
Luxury livin' baddest women and I'm straight |
|
Back up with the flames ************ |
|
I'm Paper Made |
|
[C-Bo] |
|
I still scream "****** the World" _Til My Casket Drop_ |
|
I give a ****** about parole and these bastard cops |
|
He could see me on TV coat with two glocks and a P |
|
Cuz some ************ ****** snitched on me down in Cincinnati |
|
I bet the ************ thought he had me |
|
Ain't that a ************ how ******z trip |
|
That ****** must have been smokin' the cavi |
|
I won't rest until my 'Natti ******z get him |
|
Run up in him hit him with a blade up of in his kidney |
|
And leave him face down, real ******z don't play around |
|
Paralyze that mother****** from the waste down |
|
Cuz he's a ************ turned snitch on the next ****** |
|
On sight I'm takin' his life with the Tec trigga |
|
And give a ****** about his kid, cuz he didn't give a ****** about mine |
|
When I was servin' my bid |
|
I knew he was a flunky, punk ****** dressed like a junkie |
|
Runnin' around with a pound of bunk ****** |
|
[Chorus x2] |
|
[C-Bo] |
|
See I'm all about the cash fool |
|
Blast to get a mill and I keep it real fool |
|
I owe court and the streets, ****** a deal |
|
Wanna see me cuffed and stuck in the back seat of a cop car |
|
When I got jewels and pull more strings on a good tar/guitar than a rock star |
|
Cop car by the UB wanna do me down like Doobie |
|
Straight haters is what you fools be |
|
Hangin' on my ****** like newbies |
|
You do three's dumped outta trees is how we do these |
|
Enemies when we WC 'em down like my crew be |
|
Pack heaters nonetheless and now better leave his |
|
Bulletproof vest down in the Beemer |
|
Hit 'em up we lead 'em then streetsweap 'em |
|
We don't need 'em |
|
That ******'s a ************ like Ru Paul |
|
Whipped his with his ass you'll be sold like blue ****** |
|
We some murderers, haven't ya heard of the straight killa |
|
All black, the realest on the map, mission to get the millas |
|
Y'all best off feel me, a mother******' real G |
|
In this ************t Paper Made til they kill me kill me |
|
[Chorus x2] |