|
Terror Squad - Yeah Yeah Yeah lyrics
[Remy Martin] Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah Check it [Verse One: Remy Martin] You see the girl get it popping like no other Now they call me Streets cause I, be on the block and I'm so gutter My flow a butter; see Rem got a whole lot of game but none of y'all lame dudes going to fuck her I'm on some chill shit But if you fronting then I will flip I'll give it to a little chick real quick Oh you a real bitch? You ain't a bit real You got little tits and your face looks like Emmitt Till First I'm a get it hot, then I'm a get a deal My budget none stop, mine paying 10 mills And when I'm not in the hood, I'm rocking the hood smoke Vanilla dutches and stuff on Holly-a-wood And if I, pollyin the dick it's got to be good I tell him I could change his life just like the lottery could And now I got him good, he believes me and he should Some dudes won't go down but a lot of them would I know this nigga name, Eat-it-out, he like to eat it out I just cooked in the crib and he still want to eat it out (Damn!) Oh God its Remy Martin In a hot pink Porsche with the purple carpets Nigga! [Hook: Remy Martin] Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah [Remy] Oh God! [Verse Two: Fat Joe] Hot enough swinging Crack, who could believe he's in the cockpit (cockpit) Overseas moving ki's like a locksmith (yeah) Rocks from Witsick in the sits of neck (ok) All I do is warn cause that's the big boy jet (ok) Uh, you never rocked with the R in Chicago (noo!) I picked up a bad bitch in a Marcielago (noo!) I got cribs better year estates man (man) I'm in L.A. with Atlanta plates fam (fam) Still niggaz wanna go against Crack (Crack!) But that's like ??? going against Shaq (Shaq!) And that's too much diesel, I got too much people (people) Motherfuckers, you crazy I'll leave you (leave you!) And I ain't got to tell how many sets I trip But you can find me on the woods now that's a testament Or maybe at a lounge with an extra bitch Eyecandy of the month, God damn she sick! She got a problem, I can help her with that Tell her man that she's fuckin with Crack Bet he won't do nothin (nope) Frontin like he gon' do somethin (nope) Quick to tell you that his whole crew stunting (talk to him!) Talk to me, c'mon [Hook: Remy Martin] Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah! [Fat Joe] Yeah, feel that right there Nod your head to this shit right here, that real hip-hop right there It's Cook Coke Crack, TS, Remy Mar Album coming, summer's ours cocksuckers True Story, BX Burough, Uh! |
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 Confessions by Usher |
 It Ain't What U Wear It's How U Play It by Another Bad Creation |
 Insomniac by Enrique Iglesias |
 The Massacre by 50 Cent |
 Jimmy Roses by Jimmy Roses |
