punched up, "W.W.F." But the TV Screen said World Wide Web Then I broke out in a cold, cold sweat I's the first redneck on the Internet He was the first red neck on
3 28 is a fact in V-I-P You can see how it be when we by (let's go) Bottles of Dom, keep a model a arm (c'mon) Might lose lot of my charm, when the dollars
, get down on your God damn knees For this money chronic clothes and weed Look, you fuckin' with some real O.G's Bitch please, bitch please Get down on your motherfuckin' knees
want on your tombstone Your pathetic boy, oh it's on in the dirty south You can't afford hitting your dome in his own Hang up and bitch you fuckin with a
, but not a swinger Unlike a song but called a rap singer And when I'm done, you be scared to react Because your conscience is guilty, and your rap is
recipe again oh no. I still see the yellow cotton dress foaming like a wave on the ground around your knees and the birds like tender babies on your
prison For those on the streets, rock it in your system One's restin' in piece, in my heart ya livin' Representin', all those who ain't got a pot to
? Nigga, ballin' 'til we fall [Incomprehensible] knees and C's, slangin' CD's Overseas, the Vietnamese and Japanese Ya get got, your ass'll get shot Have you on your hands and knees
a nigga at the bed like a child with the flu Put hit out on that bucket and runnin' wild with your crew Put this thang to your head Put your brains on
s So fools lose Why the l.a. [?] crews Poppin' [?] Frontal ease w/ the honeys Countin' moneys, A hillfiguze reppin' in his 20s The black [?] we pull cards
, get down on your god damn knees For this money chronic clothes and weed (Look) You fuckin' with some real O.G's, bitch, please Bitch please, get down on your motherfuckin' knees
(feat. Pharrell Williams) ROC-A-Fella records... The Imperial Skateboard P (it's alive... it's alive, it's alive) GREAT HOVA! (it's alive) Y'all already
got a problem Uh uh, born in California Clean your clock, open your can of tuna Make a choice to see the hail lord's heaven Get your chest laid out wit
you got a problem Uh uh, born in California Clean your clock, open your can of tuna Make a choice to see the hail lord's heaven Get your chest laid out
O-P Put this on G-O-D, homie this C.O.B. [Chorus: Akon] See, I remember I was just a loner, hangin on the corner Now take a look at me I'm, big bossin