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Текст песни Young Jeezy - Mr. 17.5

Young Jeezy - Mr. 17.5 слова песни


[Verse 1]
New shoes on the range rove, good with mine (vrrooomm)
You motherfuckers act like I ain`t supposed to shine
I ain`t the one, definitely not the two (nope)
One in the chamber don`t make me aim it at you (blaow)
The young Bob Barker, the price is right
If it`s C.O.D. you can get `em tonight
Put the fishscale on the scale
Ya boy went postal, all he do is check mail (hahaaaa)
Low key, under the radar
Triple black vet, yeah I call it the stealth
No currency machine, I could count it myself
Almost done, another quarter million in ones
Thunder storm in the body-tap, look what I`ve done
Chunk change, I make it rain for fun (wassup)

[Chorus]
Snow man, get cha hands up high
It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5
I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots
Snow man, get cha hands up high
It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5
I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots

[Verse 2]
I get the bars out of the back of my mind
That`s how, I reminisce like Mary J
Even in the drought, the boy kept that yay
A hundred percent certain, Snowman was workin`
You can blame my plug or my clientele (why?)
I`m addicted to that new car smell
White cookies in a plastic bag
New shoes on the coupe with the paper tag
Whole life flash right before your eyes
See the state troopers and get butterflies
Got a thing for them Heckler and Koches
A minute 14 and Rolex watches
Somewhere in the back of my secret deranged brain
I get a rush when I talk that `cane
Get money, nigga fuck them haters
All we fear is the discovery and Inditement papers (wassup)

[Chorus]
Snow man, get cha hands up high
It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5
I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots
Snow man, get cha hands up high
It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5
I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots

[Verse 3]
I`m a grown ass man, I stand on my own two
200,000 cash, I`m buying my own team
Right to your front door, operation so sweet
I like little dude who keeps his money so neat
But I still bury a nigga
Put The Mask on, Jim Carey a nigga (blaow)
Suede ends in the Chevy, got me feelin` akward
Careful with the sweets, dont burn my seats
You could live your whole life and not come close
Guess that`s why these rap niggas take notes
Rectite my adlibs, borrow my quotes
Make me Ihop a nigga, serve them with the toast
Next, they be dressin` like me
But back in `93, they wasn`t stressin` like me (wassup)

[Chorus]
Snow man, get cha hands up high
It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5
I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots
Snow man, get cha hands up high
It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5
I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots

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