Vivaldi: Concerto for 2 Violins, 2 Cellos, Strings and Continuo in D, RV 564: 2. Largo

歌詞

(Chorus: Noke D) I'm talking cash, nigga Gripping grain, swanging lanes We talking cash, nigga Candy paint on all them Range We talking cash, nigga Don't try to stop my shine We talking cash, nigga Cause I tussle on the mind I'm talking cash, nigga - 4x [Big Moe] It's Big Moe I stepped up in the door Out the Southside bitch I'm far from a hoe I ain't even scared and you know I'm down to wreck it I'ma hit the bed Moe-Yo gone get naked Got to strap my glock, got to strap my ding-a-ling Out the Southside, Moe-Yo gone sing sing I'ma swing swing, crawl down slow It's that Big Moe and you know I'm no hoe I'ma knock down that hoe Toni Braxton It's Moe-Yo come down there hating hoes I'm taxing ?Slacking sleeping off? you can't be talking about my click You know it's Wreckshop, hating hoes be on dick It's that boy Moe, I'm out the Southside I done came down, Moe-Yo I'm gone chop Ain't gone stop to the T-O-P I creep I'm putting it down from the M-O to the E My nigga Noke Deezy, all about his cheezy It's the Moe-Yo claim pussy got to be greasy Got to keep it wet, on the mic I be's a vet I'm coming down five thousand gotta get my check If you want me to be on your song, or sing a damn hook It gotta be five grand bitch I'm coming down cool With my nigga what Blue U Out the Southside, M-O-E a damn fool With my partner D-Reck, hoes they been checked It's that Wreckshop, earning paper and our respect And my brother K-Luv, my nigga Big Toon Knocking down soon, Moe-Yo gotta get a room At the end of the fucking night, I'm gone be fucking It's that Moe coming down, I do the gangsta strutting My nigga King One, let's have fun My partners Keke, Weets, the Lil Red coming down on hard My nigga High G, you know he's down with me M-O to the E, from the 1, 2, 3 The Wreckshop tree, that's where I be from Partner Silly Yo coming down on fucking hard (Chorus) [Pimp C] Since I was 17, I've been sipping on sip Bitch niggas come through empty out the clip I love old school cars, with candy ass paint Your other niggas pussies cause them other niggas fake You hollin' you a killa but I know you ain't no killa I see you in the street bitch I'm a trill ass nigga And now since the eighties, putting niggas down Letting motherfuckers hear all that bass around I ride an Impala, don't pop my collar Coming through the record company, want all my dollas You ain't got my paper bitch, you don't get no dick And I ain't put my dick in the uh you wrecked Cause tramp hoes be talking, on the pilla walking Out the street get them hoes, telling em bout all your clothes And your car sitting on gold, and how much you get at shows You shouldn't trust that bitch, that bitch will get you hit I see it all the time, bitches get knocked on the grind Keep it ten with that wife, coming back in the middle of the night Say bitch you need to stop, you need to sell some cock You need to get off them rocks, and get on private yachts I'm talking bout they cousin, coming through bitches buzzing Drinking on hennessy, bitch you don't know Pimp C You late on the slab, coming through whipping ass I whip it up in the lab, and put it out like it's dark around (Chorus)