Paper Made

歌詞

[C-Bo] My whole crew is platinum Quick to throw it down with Magnums We ain't duckin' when the guns start blastin' What's happenin' West Coast rollin', Benjamins foldin' Nigga bank accounts holdin', more loot than the jews And I just stepped fresh up out some county blues Had me all on the news, cuz I'm gettin' my paper And my goal life now is livin' it major Coppin' Crystal, Champagne I'm in the 'Natti with the blow brains Leavin' my mansion up in Spokane The dope Game, was lovely Out with the flip rollos and drop Benzes when they clucked me Now the haters wanna mug me, cuz I'm AMG kid candy on some dub leech But fuck them tricks cuz they haters They stick out like short thumbs around Playaz [Chorus x2] All I wanna do is get my paper straight Roll up highways sideways out the gates Luxury livin' baddest women and I'm straight Back up with the flames BITCH I'm Paper Made [C-Bo] I still scream "Fuck the World" _Til My Casket Drop_ I give a fuck about parole and these bastard cops He could see me on TV coat with two glocks and a P Cuz some bitch nigga snitched on me down in Cincinnati I bet the bitch thought he had me Ain't that a bitch how niggaz trip That nigga must have been smokin' the cavi I won't rest until my 'Natti niggaz get him Run up in him hit him with a blade up of in his kidney And leave him face down, real niggaz don't play around Paralyze that motherfucker from the waste down Cuz he's a bitch turned snitch on the next nigga On sight I'm takin' his life with the Tec trigga And give a fuck about his kid, cuz he didn't give a fuck about mine When I was servin' my bid I knew he was a flunky, punk nigga dressed like a junkie Runnin' around with a pound of bunk weed [Chorus x2] [C-Bo] See I'm all about the cash fool Blast to get a mill and I keep it real fool I owe court and the streets, fuck a deal Wanna see me cuffed and stuck in the back seat of a cop car When I got jewels and pull more strings on a good tar/guitar than a rock star Cop car by the UB wanna do me down like Doobie Straight haters is what you fools be Hangin' on my balls like newbies You do three's dumped outta trees is how we do these Enemies when we WC 'em down like my crew be Pack heaters nonetheless and now better leave his Bulletproof vest down in the Beemer Hit 'em up we lead 'em then streetsweap 'em We don't need 'em That nigga's a bitch like Ru Paul Whipped his with his ass you'll be sold like blue balls We some murderers, haven't ya heard of the straight killa All black, the realest on the map, mission to get the millas Y'all best off feel me, a motherfuckin' real G In this shit Paper Made til they kill me kill me [Chorus x2]