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Текст песни Big Pokey f Chris Ward, Mafia Mike - Get Out Our Way

Big Pokey f Chris Ward, Mafia Mike - Get Out Our Way слова песни

(*talking*)Uh, for the 2-theezie bout the cheezyKnow me, naw I mean, heySensei, Mafia Mike, Whodi bout our paperMobstyle for life, uh[Big Pokey]For my cream, I`ll take it to the extremeA glock and a three beam, plus a million dolla teamFranchise like Ikeim, in these streetsIn studios split beats, with this verbal heatDress code neat, from head to feetJumping out the Benzo Jeep, with a petite freakHit my point, sweep the flo`Call my Cuban connect, cop the snowI`m out the do` quick, with a block or mo`With a glock on my hip, that`ll stop the showBout my do`, rolling I`m about my hoeShe disrespect my ways, then she got to goWhen I`m paid it`s on, if I`m broke they goneOr I trick with a bitch, I choke my ownAnd I put that, on the StoneWhen it come to my paper, nigga leave me alone[Hook - 2x]Please, get out of our wayWe don`t have time, to playWe`re all about, our paper mayn[Chris Ward]I`m on a paper chase, gotta put it in these fakers faceAnd if I get locked up, I`ma escape the placeCause there`s no way, I`m doing time in jailI`d rather be burning up, frying in hellAs I cry and yell, I keep my ear to the streetsListen and learn to earn, I got peers to defeatWhile these scandalous hoes bitching, and foes snitchingFriends turn into those wishing, my pockets on richesAnd I ain`t got time for chatting, cause niggas be rattingActing fly like Aladdin, they softer than satinI`ma leave they ass flatting like a mat, with they blood splattingFor playing games with me, as if I`m MaddenFrom H-Town to Manhattan, my flows swarm like beesI spit lyrical cheese, on cd`s and lp`sAnd when it comes to stacking G`s, I`m about my payBut do like the song say, and get out the way[Hook - 2x][Mafia Mike]Went from broke to cash, then first from lastOr leave or now baby, no questions askedGas up the cat, cause the Gator`s gon mashGet out of my way, before I hit that assDon`t cause a scene, that`s gon make me slashThen hit the beat so hard, it`ll leave a gashAnd haters fall off, when they touch my stashMy whole dress attire, is made with classThose, and ain`t trying to get us left in the pastI ain`t trying to hot cap, or even flashI keep a pound of cash, stashed in my dashFull tank of gas, mean mug on my maskAnd those are like potatoes, they all get mashedJackers irritate me, like a rashI gash that ass, ooh you little bitch ass niggaCome here hoe, I knock they chest in the grass[Hook - 2x](*talking*)Uh man, too serious mean thatMobstyle for life, Mobstyle for lifeHa what, 2000 Dope Game two-theeIn your face, 3D baby done one mo`And another and another and anotherWe`re dropping like bird shitAin`t stopping, uh

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Big Pokey f Chris Ward, Mafia Mike - Get Out Our Way
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