Låttexter:
Jim Jones Pop Off

me) 'Til it pop off And you better be ready for the jump off (Come with me) 'Til it pop off And you better be ready for the jump off (Come with me) '

Jim Jones, what it here, homie? Killa Cam, Freekz Zeeky, Juelz, what's happ'nin? Hey, T.I.P., nigga I'm up in Harlem to put it down wit my muthafuckin

dip dip, Santana, set set What he grip grip, nigga tec tecs Who you wit wit, throw up yo set Dipset, dipset, dipset, what Santana, Killa, Jim Jones,

go homey, let's ride You know how we do it though, let's ride Let's ride, let's ride Uh I'm too street to go pop but I pop heat in the street I'm not

revolver The D.A., seargent and coroner's problem - now Highs get eight done, dips that don't play none Jim Jones, Freeky, Killa and the great one - Santana [Hook] [Jim Jones

to do man This what we do preferably man We bring that powerful music to your table man Killa, let ?em know something Young Guru, Just Blaze, Killa, Diplomats, huh Juelz Santana, Jim Jones

... Hi Howie We never met a pop star from Hollywood... tell me something: have you ever met Davey Jones? or Bobby Sherman? No.. no, I .. I mean

of tyrants and silence, and the demon malignancies, motherless children are born, poppa the one who murdered her, witness the vision first hand plumping master of source of us [Jim Jones

Thought he posed ta blow It's Dip-set baby, Dip-Set Nigga it's Jim Jones Now everybody know me Usually in the club wit a bunch of O.G'z We pop bottles