do we make our getaway? I wanna know, are you down? Are you down to run with me? Woah oh, how do we make our getaway? (Are you down to run with me?)
body, the face and frame of Halle Attitude - angry, snotty, speaks slang and cocky Time to hangin gotta bring a posse Through rainy days she got me, like Whitney stay wit
urkin' us, it sent me throuh a danger zone. The good thing, I found Allah in the process. An angel appeared wit' sneaky ways and gave me stress. Now what
Marauder, pass the blue moon. Hit 'chu wit' the ill tune. Ass cheeks move wit' the help of my jacket bloom. Insert the veteran Who consecutively come wit
my mind is my money fully gripped (fully gripped) [Chorus] [Verse 2 - Sean Paul] Just call me, the money maker, bread taker Nigga Breaker, the pocket raper, money scraper May do me a favor, stay
the gangstas stay in touch Why you think they love me so much (ha ha!) [Chorus] I'm talking bout summertime cookouts and wintertime flights It ain't nothing we hearing shots all night Ford Taurus pulls up everybody run
I'm dropped in the club And I'm tryna run and get my mothafuckin gun (Nigga what about your wife) Nigga fuck my wife I'm tryna run and save my mothafuckin
you hear me! you go to hell! [parl yams] Yo, y'all rappers have never learned That's why I'm fuckin wit y'all Run around telling niggas they can fuck wit
my jewelry. You'd stay silent if you niggas knew me. Truely effective. The shit you heard ain't do me justice. Got a death wish, bitch. Run up, face me and trace wit
The day Mama pushed me out her womb, told me nigga get paid No one can understand me The black sheep, out-casted from my family Now packin heat I run
niggas, then they need me See me I'm number one, I'm loadin up my gun I catch ya if you done, you pussy nigga run [Chorus] When you cross me, I'm so
stayed wit sixteen homies and one in da hole When da first one get out da next one goes To know in ya head you gotta know where you been Da glock stays wit me
me, my whip talk for me My gat talk for me BLAT! Wutup homie For bitches who don't know me ...They wanna blow me cuz the shit I floss wit sayin a lot for me
streets about me Niggaz know, ain't nothing sweet about me Get back to questions, like «50, who shot ya?… You think it was Preme, Freeze or Tah, Tah?» Nigga, street shit should stay
you look at me If you look closely, 50 don't BACK DOWN Everywhere I go both coasts wit toast Eastside, Westside, I hold that MACK DOWN Every little nigga you see around me
, An a argument develop wit me and a likkle fool! Him tell mi bout mi mother and a reach fi him tool, Mi nearly lost me temper but mi fren dem say
