[Intro]
Yeah
Drought 3
Hear my chains? Haha
That mean I'm balling, bitch!
Haha
If you didn't know
If you wasn't informed, or something like that—
This is Da Drought 3
And um... Check this out
[Verse 1]
Yeah, imagine waking up out your sleep to them pistols blasting
And if the witness is dead, there's no trial
If you didn't know then, ho, well, you know now
And I don't mean basketball when I say, "I don't know y'all"
Money, money, money, money boost my morale
Play with my money, money, money: O.K. Corral
I like a bitch with a apple-bottom like Vokal
The top is at my fingertips like I ain't got no nails
I got blood brothers, bitch; I ain't got no pals
I make a girl get low, like I ain't got no L's
I'm a paper-chasing dog, check my toenails
And I never miss a game, no Shaq O'Neal
More like Brett Favre, just like Brett Favre
I been shot two times; just wipe that off
But I thank You for putting me right back, Lord
And to You, Father, I would give my life back for it
That knife, that sword; that gun, that war
Make your so-called "soldiers" just run like Gore
Yeah—Frank, that is, from San Francis'
And I got more banana clips than chimpanzees
Ten addresses, and I dresses
Like I thinks I'm the motherfucking best there is
And I'm about to bubble, and she catch that fizz
And I'm straight from Claiborne, nigga; just ask Liz
Check your neck—there ain't a crook like this
From the city where the judge throw the book at kids
Burner in school, in my bookbag, hid
Talk stupid at lunch, and we having your ribs
If you are not home, then we having your kids
And if you can't come up with half, I'll send you half of your kid
Back to the balling, extravagant crib
I'm on the toilet watching Martin, just laughing and shit
Don't know why I get high, but I get high
I get high, like, every single day
You do shit that them other women can't
Mary Jane, what is it you done to me? Yeah
I pop a beat and start rolling
And then, I smoke it like a muh'fucking stogie
Peep how I wrote it:
I was rappin to the "ding-ding-ding-ding..." Fuck it
Yeah
Drought 3
Hear my chains? Haha
That mean I'm balling, bitch!
Haha
If you didn't know
If you wasn't informed, or something like that—
This is Da Drought 3
And um... Check this out
[Verse 1]
Yeah, imagine waking up out your sleep to them pistols blasting
And if the witness is dead, there's no trial
If you didn't know then, ho, well, you know now
And I don't mean basketball when I say, "I don't know y'all"
Money, money, money, money boost my morale
Play with my money, money, money: O.K. Corral
I like a bitch with a apple-bottom like Vokal
The top is at my fingertips like I ain't got no nails
I got blood brothers, bitch; I ain't got no pals
I make a girl get low, like I ain't got no L's
I'm a paper-chasing dog, check my toenails
And I never miss a game, no Shaq O'Neal
More like Brett Favre, just like Brett Favre
I been shot two times; just wipe that off
But I thank You for putting me right back, Lord
And to You, Father, I would give my life back for it
That knife, that sword; that gun, that war
Make your so-called "soldiers" just run like Gore
Yeah—Frank, that is, from San Francis'
And I got more banana clips than chimpanzees
Ten addresses, and I dresses
Like I thinks I'm the motherfucking best there is
And I'm about to bubble, and she catch that fizz
And I'm straight from Claiborne, nigga; just ask Liz
Check your neck—there ain't a crook like this
From the city where the judge throw the book at kids
Burner in school, in my bookbag, hid
Talk stupid at lunch, and we having your ribs
If you are not home, then we having your kids
And if you can't come up with half, I'll send you half of your kid
Back to the balling, extravagant crib
I'm on the toilet watching Martin, just laughing and shit
Don't know why I get high, but I get high
I get high, like, every single day
You do shit that them other women can't
Mary Jane, what is it you done to me? Yeah
I pop a beat and start rolling
And then, I smoke it like a muh'fucking stogie
Peep how I wrote it:
I was rappin to the "ding-ding-ding-ding..." Fuck it
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