Übersetzung: Foolish Soundtrack. Put 'em Up [mr. Serv-on].
Übersetzung: Foolish Soundtrack. Mr. Serv-On --- put 'em Up.
Mr. Serv-On] Put 'em up, put 'em up, bitch you heard what I said Put 'em up, put 'em up, you think I'm playin' what I said Put 'em up, put 'em up, bitch
It's time a nigga put Big Boy where the fuck they belong Rollin' wit Tec-9 best believe it's on Raise up, raise up, raise up, raise up, raise up
lag, you lose See, we serve our bass raw, straight up and not false This is the kind you dance to, and not on 8-Ball Plenty of bass, the beat, and the
'm just doing what the drug dealers do Makin money and smokin weed with my thug nigga crew Ya heard me!?? [Mr. Serv-On] I got pimps lined up saying the
close hit 'em up wid the forty reasons Nigga roll up the buddah, Smoke it all up nigga don't stiff on the reefer Mo runnin' up outta the club wid this
, put 'em in the river, Bodies shiver, FUCK that nigga Hit 'em up inside, minds be blowin' I'm dumpin' Remember me spray 'em slay 'em guage 'em layin 'em
on a come up Niggas be tryin run up, but I bust, and they drop to their death Now they done up. Gun up, hunt my blunt up Creepin' 'til sun up, feelin'
make some money so me making me dummy rocks, choppin up soap, Split em up, get em up, hit em off the block, Put a hand pullin on each loaded barrel, Cuz
s ass If you don't understand, don't even bother to ask A father who has grown up with a fatherless past Who has blown up now to rap phenomenon that has
serve us Y'ALL nervous, know them guns on full service, ready to fire One body, two body, three body, four Young sittin on paper, I'm above the law Young shittin on
in the bahamas Rock on the dance floor to din dada Cause I'm a player that you love to hate Got your girl suckin' dick on video tape I like pussy...suckin' on
step up in the party, like I'm out-you-scurry So go get your fuckin' shine box, and your sack of nickles It tickles to see you try to be like Mr. Pickles
s a must (Uh-huh, yea yea) Crimey and grimey weed smuckers (Uh-huh, yea yea) Money and weed, you know my mind see on the Don Don P With Mr. Magic and
Benz with hoes stubbled up and cuddled in the back with my friends I slide up on 'em like a cross fader the hook up later and serve this dick like a waitor
: (Feat. The Dove Shack) [G Child] Mr. President, hey, this is the G Child Spacekateers, I'm back baby yes I'm back And Mr. President you're not chillin
creep on a come up Niggas be tryin' run up but I bust, and they drop to their death Now they done up, gun up, hunt my blunt up Creepin' 'til sun up,
