Waptrick T I - You Know What It Is Текстове на песни

  • [Intro: Wyclef Jean (T.I.)]

    Ay boy, don't spill my drink boy, ba-lip!

    Now listen (Grand Hustle homie)

    Everybody report to the bloodclaat dance floor (ay, ay, ay, ay)

    Wyclef, "All Hands on Deck" - you love the beat?

    (Boy you know what it is, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay)

    Yo Tip, talk to me bloodclaat

    [Chorus: T.I.]

    I'm a real nigga homie, throw six figures on me

    Got a pistol you don't want it, boy you what what it is

    Ay, I'm way flyer, my pay's way higher

    If they ever mention sire boy you know what it is

    I got that drama, you don't want no problems

    Dial up that llama, boy you know what it is

    Ay, I get money, all I count is big money

    Dick is all she get from me, boy you know what is

    Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay - boy you know what it is nigga


    Yo T.I.P., let them likkle rap boys know how you livin

    [Verse One: T.I.]

    The wait is over, here we go again, I'm back into play

    Gon' sell another couple mil' and take it back to the A

    Gon' take that other couple mil' and put it back in the safe

    Five cash for the crib on the back of the lake

    I'm up in Crucial two-steppin with the gat in the waist

    T.I. ain't in the street no mo', fo'-fo', is that what they say?

    Don't even try him when you see him boy you have to be great

    Cause this pistol hit you in your face, your teeth they'll have to replace

    That's if you lucky nigga trust me, it don't hurt me to take

    100 thousand to them Haitians you'll be murdered today, nigga



    Yo T.I.P. some boys wan' playa hate

    Let them know who the King of the South is, talk to them!

    [Verse Two: T.I.]

    Well they sweatin when they see me, I'm apparently hot

    Had the album of the year nigga, Grammy or not

    Remember, all day I used to stay in the spot

    With two revolvers in my pocket, pitch a hand of that rock

    And now, chart toppin, ain't a car I ain't got

    I'm the number one customer at my own car lot

    You wanna know how much I'm makin, just imagine a lot

    You know I'm probably gettin more that you'd imagined I got

    Listen close, I need to know if you understand me or not

    Because you disrespectin me, you and your man'll be shot



    Why y'all take shot, cause I'm movin?

    We'll pop you in your chest boy

    [Verse Three: T.I.]

    Well from the King of the South to the King of the States

    Ridin in a car you probably never seen in the states

    No idea how much yay I can bring in the states

    Hey you can get a hundred on 'em for a million today

    Frank Lucas ain't the only one who made a million a day

    But it's a American gangsta right here in your face

    And you don't wanna see PSC on the scene with a K

    You think you runnin up and robbin, that ain't even the case

    And just because you get away, that don't mean it's okay

    You a dead man walkin and I mean it, okay? Hey


    [Outro: Wyclef Jean (T.I.)]

    Some of them boys wan' talk 'bout they have done

    They guns sound like popcorn, ya

    When the King of the South (boy you know what it is)

    Get with the King of Haiti, big up Jamaica

    Expect this (boy you know what it is)

    Bloodclaat gorillas a-come out (hahhh, ay, boy you know what it is)

    And when that fire don't pop, come and gone

    We have big LONG machine guns then

    And when we pull them back (choppers'll hang you)

    BLAP, BLAP, BLAP, BLAP! Bap-bap-bap-bap-bap!

    You like the beat? (hahhh, they better)

    We can sell you one y'know (well bop ya head then, okay)

    Yo big up to Haiti! (hey!)

    I'm the king, all the way to the ATL (Bankhead, okay)

    Yo big up the whole South, East West North (Grand Hustle homie)

    Yo London! Japan (HEY) yeah (PSC)

    Yo Tip, respect (hahhh, yeah)

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