作词 : Sam Bostic/Mike Mosley/Earl Stevens/L. King 作曲 : Sam Bostic/Mike Mosley/Earl Stevens/L. King Pushed in the game at a young age Feel me touch me as I turn the page A little past ten, roughly about eleven years old TRAPPED IN A GHETTO CAGE My scratch is smellin sour and it's stinkin got a ************* seriously thinkin "How can I kill this odor, and purchase me a Lincoln?" Minimum wage flippin patties - nope I'd rather ************* around with Coca-Cola, yola Ice cream, candy, granola, huh Slave for men - that's what they told me and I'll break you off somethin suitable Brought you a key of crack quicker than ? ? recoupable ? future black and beautiful My partners used to be plucked and ugly Hangin around them old squeegee boys Man them the mother******s that have love for me They straight cut for me Deal me, touch me, L-O-V-E E-to-the-F-to-the-R-T-Y I spits the *************t from the T-O-P It's me, the E, droppin it nuclear all the time Mother****** comin from the mother****** MIND ************* you *************z, you think I sell my soul But I'm way too cold, mother******! Chorus: LeVitti Sittin in my livin room Thinkin of, a master plan Tryin to find a way out HOW TO STACH the scratch So I painted me a picture of a life, to make a dream Can you feel me now Ballin outta control, ballin outta control Fresh off the showroom flo', bought me a ninety-fo' Now I'm havin long money, like Ross Perot, so take notes from a big ol' ? pimp, pretty much established Livin out of hand lavish Throwin parties ? with big time folks makin big time cabbage Become a savage, get swoll by ones Twenty a drum's established Six figure digits, just like I tell you like I got the whole city sewed up in stitches Your product'll win if you gots top grade Keep, your law-yers and your bail bondsmen paid The word on the street's is that I done came up too fast Mother******s want a piece of my soul Playa haters wanna cut my grass You don't wanna bring your ************* to what type of ? out of control sittin on tickets Million dollar spots, technology chops and a mother****** proud fool-assed ridiculous Straight ****** em up like that, throw me my strap man ? feel me Reverend would you put some blessin oil on my head and hear me I never sell my soul cause I'm way too cold Mother******! Ballin outta control Interlud: LeVitti This ol' game, kids they run Never get a second chance so take me to this world Now there's always time, to getcha I guess by now you get the picture of what I'm tryin to say I'm ballin outta control "*************z trippin off me cause I was a young mother****** ballin" "Every other ****** day I'm tellin my SOHABS OUGHTTA quit" "*************z trippin off me cause I was a young mother****** ballin" "We can get it on, we can get it on" "*************z trippin off me cause I was a young mother****** ballin" "Forty-Water, straight lettin em know" "Even though my pocket's fat and my belly's bigger.. gots to come Sic-Sic-Sic-Wid-It" Throw, the WHOLE UNIT in a big ass gumbo pot Full stir Let it settle to make it lock Horse races, trips to Vegas, frequent flier "Whassup you timah, when your ass gonna retire?" I ain't knowin Keep tellin myself that I'ma call it quits But I got myself Too much mother****** cabbage out there runnin in the streets Lookin up out the way for the one-time Po-Po Penelope seriously concentratin Noided as I watch the back for all of my chemistry cause fools be playa hatin Lucrative spots and blows, inves**ents bonds and stocks Esquired land and crops, techno chops and glocks Cause *************z be tryin to make movies when they get all in front of these bootch ass hoochies I be like poppin the cap like a hungry mother I ain't even gon' lie I'm to' Twoasted, looped, to' back, souped Plastered, puked, on the get back fully recouped ************* these *************z they think I'll sell my soul But I'm way too cold, mother******!
作词 : Sam Bostic/Mike Mosley/Earl Stevens/L. King 作曲 : Sam Bostic/Mike Mosley/Earl Stevens/L. King Pushed in the game at a young age Feel me touch me as I turn the page A little past ten, roughly about eleven years old TRAPPED IN A GHETTO CAGE My scratch is smellin sour and it's stinkin got a ************* seriously thinkin "How can I kill this odor, and purchase me a Lincoln?" Minimum wage flippin patties - nope I'd rather ************* around with Coca-Cola, yola Ice cream, candy, granola, huh Slave for men - that's what they told me and I'll break you off somethin suitable Brought you a key of crack quicker than ? ? recoupable ? future black and beautiful My partners used to be plucked and ugly Hangin around them old squeegee boys Man them the mother******s that have love for me They straight cut for me Deal me, touch me, L-O-V-E E-to-the-F-to-the-R-T-Y I spits the *************t from the T-O-P It's me, the E, droppin it nuclear all the time Mother****** comin from the mother****** MIND ************* you *************z, you think I sell my soul But I'm way too cold, mother******! Chorus: LeVitti Sittin in my livin room Thinkin of, a master plan Tryin to find a way out HOW TO STACH the scratch So I painted me a picture of a life, to make a dream Can you feel me now Ballin outta control, ballin outta control Fresh off the showroom flo', bought me a ninety-fo' Now I'm havin long money, like Ross Perot, so take notes from a big ol' ? pimp, pretty much established Livin out of hand lavish Throwin parties ? with big time folks makin big time cabbage Become a savage, get swoll by ones Twenty a drum's established Six figure digits, just like I tell you like I got the whole city sewed up in stitches Your product'll win if you gots top grade Keep, your law-yers and your bail bondsmen paid The word on the street's is that I done came up too fast Mother******s want a piece of my soul Playa haters wanna cut my grass You don't wanna bring your ************* to what type of ? out of control sittin on tickets Million dollar spots, technology chops and a mother****** proud fool-assed ridiculous Straight ****** em up like that, throw me my strap man ? feel me Reverend would you put some blessin oil on my head and hear me I never sell my soul cause I'm way too cold Mother******! Ballin outta control Interlud: LeVitti This ol' game, kids they run Never get a second chance so take me to this world Now there's always time, to getcha I guess by now you get the picture of what I'm tryin to say I'm ballin outta control "*************z trippin off me cause I was a young mother****** ballin" "Every other ****** day I'm tellin my SOHABS OUGHTTA quit" "*************z trippin off me cause I was a young mother****** ballin" "We can get it on, we can get it on" "*************z trippin off me cause I was a young mother****** ballin" "Forty-Water, straight lettin em know" "Even though my pocket's fat and my belly's bigger.. gots to come Sic-Sic-Sic-Wid-It" Throw, the WHOLE UNIT in a big ass gumbo pot Full stir Let it settle to make it lock Horse races, trips to Vegas, frequent flier "Whassup you timah, when your ass gonna retire?" I ain't knowin Keep tellin myself that I'ma call it quits But I got myself Too much mother****** cabbage out there runnin in the streets Lookin up out the way for the one-time Po-Po Penelope seriously concentratin Noided as I watch the back for all of my chemistry cause fools be playa hatin Lucrative spots and blows, inves**ents bonds and stocks Esquired land and crops, techno chops and glocks Cause *************z be tryin to make movies when they get all in front of these bootch ass hoochies I be like poppin the cap like a hungry mother I ain't even gon' lie I'm to' Twoasted, looped, to' back, souped Plastered, puked, on the get back fully recouped ************* these *************z they think I'll sell my soul But I'm way too cold, mother******!
