YEAH

“I used to think about immature things
You know like
Do you love me, Do you want me
Are you gunna call me like you said you would
Is this really your real phone number”

wait A Minute Muthafucka

(Andre 300)
Ain't a hood nigga but a nigga from the hooda
See my mommy stayed on me
So I turned out pretty good
But if you wanna try
Sucka I think we could do it haha
Sleep, Tylenol PM if I pull it
Shee.. Sheep, count em for the rest of your life
Yea, yea, your partner got away but now he vegetable-like
So, so, I sent his mom and dad a whole case of V8
He could die any second
How much longer is it gon’ take
Gon’ get it over with
Oh what if you were in my loafers then
You might be the dope ,, I would it flush down the toilet
Like the boys in blue, when the come through with the boots
And they kickin down the door, and they don’t care who they shoot
But we do care who they shoot, so we do what we must do
So we act like we on track, Then we run straight to the back
But they coming from the back
So we run back to the front
They say get down on yo knees
We say what the fuck you want
They want cheese, they want bread, they want dough, they want mo’
Then I wanna give em but if I keep talkin’ they wont know
That my cousin in the back
And we call him Roto Reuters slash plumber cash runner
And he file on them computers log i-i-i-i-i

(Chorus)
Fuck niggas wanna jack Shit tight no slack just bought a Cadillac
(Throw some D’s on that bitch)
just bought a Cadillac
(Throw some Throw some D’s on that bitch)
Just bought a Cadillac
(Throw Throw some)
Rich Boy sellin crack Fuck niggas wanna jack shit tight no slack
Just bought a Cadillac (Throw Throw some D’s on that bitch)
Just bought a Cadillac (Throw Throw some D’s on that bitch)
Just bought a Cadillac (Throw Throw some D’s on that bitch)

(Jim Jones)
Shout out to Rich Boy
We all wanna be rich boy
Alabama bricks boy
Try and get the big toys
2-12 motorin’
Tell Harry (Throw some D’s on that bitch)
Now I’m getting fly, Couple G’s on the fit
I’m at the jewelryer now, Throw some freeze on a bitch
I gotta chest cold and I might sneeze on a bitch
We at the strip club, we throw some g’s on that bitch
Cause we BALLIN’
We all Outkast, hot cars we coping cash
Chop shop add the stash, Cop cars we kiss their ass
The carwash, my whips glowin’
No tint we fish bowlin
No top the piff blowin
(Throw some D’s on that bitch)
And We go hard, zone 4, d-1 squad
We don’t need to boss, closest lawyer baby
Just to keep in charge
We got a Fetish copin speeding cars
Charge it to my Visa card, they never thought that we’d get large

(Nelly and Murphy Lee hot potato)
Yo lunatic sittin fat, St. Louis on the map
’69 Wet Black I just got my Cutty back
Throw some d’s on that Ho ,I just got my Cutty back
Throw some d’s on that Ho, I just got my Cutty back
How could I slip, how could I fall
When Yo baby mama got my poster high up on her wall
And that aint all, she did give me dem draws
I’m Murphy Lee please tell your sexy little sister (I’ll call)
Last time she ask me for some money I was (Hell to the Naw )
But now I’m rich and she can get it
See these D’s match my fitted, My paint is Banana Splitted
Inside is totally ign’t, Outside is totally kiddin’
To be pacific it's wicked, how them dirty boys get it
Dat Buick Regal (done did it)
My Montecarlo (‘s terrific)
That El Dorado (got switches)
Shamicka an’ them (I aint hit it)
That 20 mill (I just spent it)
That house on the hill (I live it man)
And that diamond red bone
You know them niggas hit it
Walk up in the strip club
Looking for a big butt
Shawtie wanna get buck
[I bought about ten wha
Throw some one’s on it mo’
I bought about ten wha?]
x2
(Chrous)

(Rich Boy)
Ay, its Rich boy baby girl I’m a balla
I drop a hit then and had to go park my Impala
I threw some D’s on that ‘Lac and now it’s taller
They see them wheels on my Deville amd so the holla
Wassup, lets get these dollas
I got the fat man Lac
took it to the paint shop and got the fat man black
Prime hold the jacob wit my toyko adidas on
Ho dont even call my phone If you aint gunna give me dome
So fuck you haters, ill see you later
My seats be gata in my Escalata
Momma told me put some D’s on it son you ridin wrong
So I took them 20s off and put them monster wheelie on

(Chorus)

(The Game)
All Red Chevrolet, 26's ridin’ high
Dukes of hazards doors, in Compton we call'em suicides
Suede roof, leather seats, wood grain steering wheel
Candy Apple hard top, Game logo on the grill
California license plate, riding through the ATL
Keep my ties bald, I never leave a paper trail
Naw Imma keep it clean, ball when I hit the scene
Elbow out the window, show ‘em how a gangsta lean
Put Cali on the map, West side on my back
Hometown on my face, 45’s on my lap
20 in my earlobe , hundred on my neck piece
Just Bought a Bentley and nigga Imma
(Throw Some D’s on that bitch)
Pull up to at the rim Shop and
(Throw Some D’s on that bitch)
might as well cut the top
let the sun Shine in and the bass jump out
hit the block ,15's vibratin the whole fuckin house

Horrible, reminded me again of how horrible rap is, thanks!

I like how Rich Boy raps like ten lines in the whole song when the song is supposedly by him.

...it kills me to say that my friends actually like that song

queen's not that good, tbh.

Then you just haven't heard enough.

i'd rather listen to the roots, tbqh.

i'd rather listen to the roots, tbqh.

Has your skin color suddenly turned to black?

idk man, i think it might have.