Geah

Hey (c'mon)

To the full degree (c'mon, geah check it out)

(check it out)

We 'bout it

Gettin' that paper

We 'bout it

Check it out



Federalies gaffling up so keep it tight

These songs to do wrong so fuck being right

Late nite hype's the fiends

Nobody serves 'em better to the letter

We gets the chedder

To the way back days

Where the Half Ounce lays

Gun tucked by the nuts

As the one time struts

Gets my bail on cause I ain't tryin' to get caught around here

Be another nigger locked up for the next 10 years

No Shapiro, no ?Sapino?, big bambino

Roulette spends 20 G's in the casino

Hits the blackjack decked in Armani

(In a 9-6-5 I'm Clyde, my bitch is Bonnie)

Too sweet

Better yet too clean, pickin' the paper

Takin' you there like the Staples, but they ain't catchin' no vapors

You can't see me, nobody I trust

Only the Half Ounce smokers get no cheese like us



I said do you got paper?

Check it out



I said we got paper, no doubt uh

Get your scrilla anyway you can

Floss around town, bitch who's the man...



To the days

When I used to keeps my stash in the bush

Nowadays be clientele with parents that push

In my drop top with the laptop keeping up president straight

Ok, who gots the pick-up? Bitch touch down at 8

My niggas got the pick-up, the pager starts ringing

It's payday, ho's know, that's why they start singing

Dollar bills y'all

And me throwing away pleas







Fools got me too fucked up thinking snaps grow on trees

Ain't no government given away free cheese

And the bitch going through anything that floss on these D's

Better watch out cause t