| Lyrics: | Chorus: Johnny P
Do you wanna riiide?
In the backseat, of a Caddy
Chop it up, with
Do or Die
Do you wanna riiide?
In the backseat, of a Caddy
Chop it up, with Do or
Die
Verse One: Belo
Seven double oh P.M.
Fly low to them hoes in the
B-M
Sippin Seagram, chewin on a weed stem
Touchin on my fo' fin
Move it to the back so I
can see who beepin this Po Pimp
Spring to the phone with a slow limp
In a trip that shitted
with 3-1-2-7-6-2-10
Three line connection
As the rest of them wanted affection
Just
bring the weed, we got the drinks you need
And plus we strapped with two protections
I put
the phone in the hook, then I pause for a minute
Cause I forgot where I met the hoe
And the
feeling I've forgotten if the hoes wanna snap
I straight up check the hoe, really doe
To the
crib
Chorus
Verse Two: AK-47, Belo
Seven deuce five, the ride the point
to spot the live hoes
Three miles per hour
Like we runnin up on some ri-vals
Never to
deny though, these bitches look fly 'Lo
Introduce myself
A to the motherfuckin K finna
recognize
Then I loose myself juice myself
As you take one pull, uhh, pass it to the left
and umm
Self-centered niggaz'll take two pulls
cuz they thinkin about samplin umm
P-I,
M-P, ology, but logically
We learnin these hoes biology, and obviously, well...
Mmm,
ain't this some shit, pull up in the C-A
D-I, Double-L, with ah A-C, A-C hoes
They peep
those, P-I, M-P, and they think that automatically
Cause he's a pimp, he gotta be, full of
that
M-O, N-E, but why?
Cause nigga be sportin nice cars and fancy clothes
Fresh jewels
Girbaud flexin one five oh (chop chop)
Chop up that paper hoe, chop up t |
