Letras
Yeah it's a picture; yeah it's a job
Maybe that's why I do it so odd
Walk around just like I was god
Kick it so live, when I'm with the gods
Freeway strikin', and weed we lightin
And If I die, remember the titan
With 22's, 25's, Chocolate 9's and 45's
Let em rip, all through the sky
This for the ones that hate that I'm high
When you see me, it's no surprise
Tap your brain, and blow your mind
Bettin on Lakers, and takers and fakers, and makers
And mami we do it for paper
You come with the vapors or capers
Or caper and vapors
Its cool, someone I'll call later
Chorus:
Me and my homies, love the bottle
Like Tyson loves Cus D'amato
So on them days you feelin' real bad
Think of the best freak that you've ever had
Garlic tipped, and they love to hollow
Like Tyson loves Cus D'amato
So before you go to gettin' mad
Think of the best freak that you've ever had
She like the Nikes, I like the 'didas
She like the Reeboks, and I like the Filas
She like the winners, and I like the cheaters
She like the lion, I like the hyenas
Spit some game, then hook up with Shaq
On the PlayStation, I'm known to brag
Hook up with pimps that love the cash
Man you should see how we giggle and laugh
With of hearts of ice, the house is cold
Its like Slick Rick, without the gold
This right here is the life we chose
No excuses just go for gold
There's no producing, this perfect pose
Hit the street in the freshest clothes
Rip the stage, and bless the shows
Spit the flows, and hit the do'
Chorus #2:
Most of my homies, love the bottle
Like Tyson loves Cus D'amato
So on them days you feelin' real bad
Think of the best freak that you've ever had
Garlic dipped, and they love to hollow
Like Tyson loves Cus D'amato