go All the way up, all the way up to heaven All the way up, all the way up to heaven All the way up, all the way up to heaven All the way up, all the
you, it's so hard to let you go All the way up, all the way up to heaven Now I wake up with your voice in my head All the things you said - keep on playing
jama booty (Like) O.M.G., (I'm like) Oh My God (AYYY) Get it Biiiiiiiiii - You doin a hell of a job (let's go) So bring it up, up, up, back down and
in they ways Just read a magazine and fucked up my day How you rate music that thugs but nothing' but relate to it I helped them see they way through
there's a problem we solve it, we don't resolve it It just usually jus' evolves into one big brawl and we all get involved in it [yeah!] We should all
the horizon She swear she love the way I'm grindin' That privilege heat is tandalizin' Repeat Chorus Twice [Verse 3: Jay Tee] Now when I walked up to
no hair in face And the bold man carrying cross Had told all one of Asa bay The God of all man woman child had come To them all save And to thank Lord
give you pinch Now let me tell you about Mr. Grinch Every holiday season while we was young, growing up Everything be cool when Mr. Grinch show up Always
party begin [Verse 1: Chingy] Peeps call me up {*phone ring*} said it's a ho-tel party Just bring the liquor there's already eight shawties I'm on my way (way
boy wanna pick up the mic and try to run with the big boys and live up to the real hype But that's like pickin up a ball, playin with Mike Swingin
As soon as war broke out The G.I came and they just come to the house and "You have to come" "All the Japanese have to go" They took Mr. Lee People
clean Servin all you suckers cause you all dopefiends Just like that dopeman, nigga what's up? You run up with that bullshit I'll fuck yo' ass up [Chorus
storm I could give a fuck about you hatin, on my way to the Colliseum with seventeen-five waitin They scream for the limousine, it's all clean Tinted,
Atlanta Landslide Alabama, on my way to Sevana I said I woke up this morning, headache this big Pay all these damn bills, feed all these damn kids Buy all these school shoes, buy all
Mr are cuttin big brothers and fuckin they little sisters I hear Most Wanted this (and) Most Wanted that (uh huh) Plus Mr. dead broke (what else) Mr. cant rap Follow Mr
(Knicks) like Ewing and the draft pick easy money, that was all in Eighty-Nine locked down every block, made all gravy mine Gucci slides cost Three-Twenty-Five I, pulled up
[screwed up:] They talkin big baby They they talkin big baby They talkin big baby They they talkin big baby [Chorus:] They don't wanna play They
[Intro:] Oohhhh Introduce (introduce) Mr. (mr.) Three (yep) O (yep) Five' Hop on a bucket of hot legs, fuck it [x4] [Verse 1:] This for the boy who went
