hine to dis OK [Chorus] [Mark] Du du du [Trina] Back dis ass up [Mark] Du du du [Trina] Back dis ass up [Mark] Du du du [Trina] Back dis ass up [Mark
in the dark Blood spill stain on the street, that's how niggaz be leavin they mark Fuckin' with diplomats who love Bailey's Monopolize and quickly get other money
the one that's gonna fall on no hoe trap Ease back bitch, before you need all your teeth back.. .. I ain't no fuckin mark Made all my money workin bowcutters
, something gonna stick, believe that F-ck these other bitches, don't trip You've been working too hard, tell em n-ggas cut the check Goin pick up all this money
, let's keep it real I got the documents to prove that you's a snitching ass nigga Trying to hide behind your music You hit the highway, got money the
hu, lets keep it real, I got the documents to prove you?s a snitching ass nigga. Trying to hide behind your music, you hit the High way got money the
get on the stand I just go get Johnny B the right-hand man And watch 'em jet, when the Akshun takes a stand I'm on the set in other words, I'm in effect
love y'all like y'all love me But if y'all know what we talkin? bout Fizz holla at ya boy For the first three years, we was on coat fax No deals, no money
What happened to that other rapper Y'all used to fuck with? Man, we ain't fucking with that fake motherfucker MC Uh, whatever that motherfucker name
work and __ for you, money Seekin? new money for me n my honey I?ve gotta work so I fill up my tummy She?d rather tease me than __ my program And keep me in so I make minimal money
come out errp of course we're about to stir up Some shit as thick as Mrs Butterworths syrup It's the Mr. picked on Christopher Reeves Just for no reason other
shark's fin You swimmin' in my water, I'm 'bout to let them sharks in Real niggas in my circle, and I don't let no marks in I preach to the streets, call
it just seem like you can get out of it, nowhere and shit You thinkin' you puttin' your shit in and you thinkin' You gettin' over, and doin' all this other
] Welcome to Saturday Night Live, write rhymes Glide on beats, and we high from the police The dogs bark funny, in fact, when I'm clean They can smell mark money
the four-four All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more On ya mark, get set, when I spark, ya wet Look how dark it get, when ya marked with death
I was standin' in the grocery store line The one they marked 'Express' When this woman came through with about 25 things And I said, "Don't you know that
, and plus we keep it explicit Abducted by the streets see it's hard to manage End up on my block saying we the savage So you made a little money, oh
'til it's hard, then cut it in eighths Take the trip cross town to see Tru Just get the money, don't listen, that *** think he cute See all this money
