Mac Mall & Ray Luv - New Jersey Drive | Текст песни

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• Mac Mall & Ray Luv
• New Jersey Drive

[ Ray Luv ]

One mo' time for the streets of Killa Cali

Grew up on the dank and shootin dice up in the alley

Back when niggas had names like Rock Tee, Chin and Butta

O.G. game from the muthafuckin gutter

I guess it was cool when a nigga had no riches

Cuz niggas didn't p.h. and run they mouths like bitches

Much love for the hood, what up, nigga, where's my homies?

Show love for these niggas, but they ain't got no love for me

Jealous as fuck when I got love from the Crest niggas

But all I get is mean mugs from you West niggas

Now that I think these muthafuckas is so funny

'll peel a nigga's cap for a trick-ass nobody

(You better check your heart and your brain, man

I think you niggas need to get up on some game, man)

Picked up on your ho, I'm gettin jocked by your steady

All I want the money though, I'm all about my fetti

Nigga

Money money money's all I know

I gots no time to waste with you trickin punk-hoes

Money money money's all I see

You need to get some game and quit fuckin with me

Moneeey

(I'm all about my fetti)

Money

[ Mac Mall ]

Now half of these niggas is falsified

The rest is full of mess, so they tend to hide

A lotta them is cowards who be actin hard

Some is tired-ass tricks who will never get far

Some is straight dopefiends tryina grind they lley

But they still pushin pebbles to this muthafuckin day

Some start funk over hoes and blame it on somethin else

Them niggas need to check theyself

But the sucker that I hate the most

Is the busta full of envy, mad cuz he broke

Every night he be stressin, thinkin that his hoe wanna get me

I wouldn't fuck her with yo dick, she ain't got nothin to give me

Cuz your nigga is broke, so hoe, I know you're starvin

So you won't have to worry about Mac Mall harmin

Your boyfriend and girlfriend relationship

I got my money and my cuddies, who needs a bitch?

Mac Mall will never get played

I'ma stay Ses ways

And you know I'm all about that money

That's all I know, nigga

Fuck them hoes and them niggas

That's all I see in the Triple C

Stop fuckin with me

I'm all about my fetti

I'm all about my fetti

Yeah, my nigga Young Lay

Come serve these fools

[ Young Lay ]

Gettin blimped with a tramp up on ? confusin what's right

To hide the doubt, so I grab my money and my lle', high

Why do these youngsters by so nervous,

niggas creepin thru these turfs

Plus these po-po's tryin to serve us ill

But I kick back and just act with my fuckin clan

And kick that gangsta rap and spit about my gangsta macks

On rap tracks and spit for those that copy free

And givin they dap and tellin me it ain't a day without drink and weed

G's get stacked, now who's a mack, yeah, the nigga shook ya

Ki's of crack get cut down, but but not by the cook up

But yo, they crookers, watchin me all the time

But I keep lookin and keep a nine by my spine

Or to my side, cuz when I ride you'll never know

But if it's over some dough, Young Lay is quick to let it go

And let him know, nigga, that this is loc side

Home of the mack, playa pros, squares run and hide

Cuz tonight we gonna do it just like this

But if your hoe is choosin, nigga, the mic's in my fist

Some of this mixed with a whole lotta that

Old fuelin with new, it made my fetti fat

Money money money's all I know

I gots no time to waste with you trickin punk-hoes

Money money money's all I see

You need to get some game and quit fuckin with me

Moneeey

(I'm all about my fetti)

Money

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