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4:22 | 
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from Baby Bash - Super Saucy [Explicit Version] (2005)
(Russell Lee)
Yeah, Yeah I'm a spit some of this real game Some real shit Some real talk Na, na Whoa-oh, Whoa (Richie Rich) Ugh, check my watch Check my chain It's simple and plain The Chevy wit the blew out brains As I bounce and mash Count this cash Floss and flash Cop and blow a zip wit Bash Since everything is big in Texas then where's the zag's? I'm a cross the finish line Tell me where's the flags? Brought my rag top Should have brought the Jag On the beach me and Beesh Look at all this ass I could tell you stories but can show you cash Give you game and secrets that I know you'll pass To the next playa hater And he'll break like glass Now I got a bunch of people digging' through my pads So I choose to floss Cuz who's the boss, let's ink it It's Richie Rich for those who thought re-think it Some yell it and tell it I blow it and smoke it and smell it Let's spend tokens wit my people who sell it, what? (Chorus): Russell Lee I can show you better than I can tell ya, tell ya I can show you better than I can tell ya, tell ya I can show you better than I can tell ya, whoa yeah But it's really nothin' though (But it's really nothin' though) But it's really nothin' though (But it's really nothin' though) (Baby Bash) I could show you somethin' dirty deep up in them corners mayne What the deal? I could bend the block and make it hotter than a Forman grill I got the keys to the Chevy Caprice I could show you mother fuckin' snitches straight to Belize Now that's low Fa sho', conspiracy and parole I could show you real cats doin' time over a ho I could show you poor and happy, or rich one's that lose they mind I could show you dime pieces in school fashion design I could show you street lights and heart beak hotels I could show you young cats gettin' popped wit yayo Down to do what I gotta do to satisfy the man in me And from the looks of thangs the popo's ain't understandin' me The original digital scale reader The pedigree playa who be stackin' his Velveeta I could show you boss stuntin' so fuckin' disgustin' I could show you rapper's frontin' but mayne it's really nothin' (Chorus) (A-Wax) I could show you I could reach you and teach you I know you and where you comin' from I understand it This been goin' on forever dog It's no end Life is like a bullet in your back from a close friend Disappointed to the point where I'm runnin' by myself Never knowin' where I'm goin' start to wonder myself, yeah Money was a necessity My greed got the best of me You think you smokin' Uncle B Who got the recipe? I'm sayin' it's nothin' I say it sincerely, and speakin' clearly I'd rather you respect me than fear me I came a long way and still I got a while to go You probably thinkin' to yourself "What's he smilin' for?" My dog Bash about to be platinum doin' his thang So if you hate him for it, boy you fakin' and know it We takin' this money Big bundles of bills I'm like a whole 'nother person when it come to this skrill |
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5:28 |
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from Baby Bash - Super Saucy [Explicit Version] (2005)
(feat. Butch Cassidy, Don Cisco, Nino Brown, Russell Lee, Mr. Kee)
(Mr. Kee:) Yeah Hustler's theme Worldwide Come on (Hook: Mr. Kee) All money ain't good money Stack your chips Let it flip like some hood money Cock them rims Let 'em spin on them haters, man And all the players Worldwide, do your thug thang (The hustler's theme) All money ain't good money Stack your chips Let it flip like some hood money Cock them rims Let 'em spin on them haters, man And all the players Worldwide, do your thug thang (Pre-Verse: Baby Bash) I take a slow beat (Slow beat) And spit a hard rap (Hard rap) Pobre, I ain't retarded, you know we off that (Off that) From the west, my brother, to the east Back down To the diggy dirty for sherzy (What the feezy?) (Pre-Verse) (Verse 1: Baby Bash) Now I walk around like I got a rock in my sock When it's just a limb, from this money right in my pocket Pimp I know you smell it cause it's gettin' you naucious Cause the shit I'm layin' on this track is Brown as the Foxy's I'm the done dealer Don Dadda, fresh out of Guatemala Some say, "Bash, you the shit" In Spanish, I'm the dada It's the million dollar Mexi, the mack, God he done bless me Girls wanna caress me, like I'm Elvis Presley (Chorus: Russell Lee) It don't stop Straight to the top til the game lock You know I gotta rep for my hood and my block Stackin' up my bread, make me stand a little taller Collectin' my winnings without punching no glocks The game's gettin' hard, so I gotta get smarter Watching out for cops, cause my homies got knocked Drought seas in our cheer, but my pocket's ain't starvin' That's why I stay chargin' You know we won't stop (Verse 2: Don Cisco) This is for my heavyweighters Pullin' strings like elevators Where my ops in full swing, I'll be standing on top of skyscrapers Seventy stories or more Eventually the public'll Know my story, fa' sho Make a household Name out of Don Cisco Go from a hustler Born and grind, tryin' to find some dough To the billion dollar Boy club Mexicali thug style I got Money to get back, I'm fresh off the drug drought FED's couldn't stop me, head shots didn't pop me Wouldn't lock, never got me, I'm the same player, still cocky Bossed out Hoppin' out of the drought Lookin' flossed out, everything chopped, even the crop Believe I'm the don, listen, everything I'm breathing on Represent west side til the rider in me's dead and gone Me and Bash do things Butch Cassidy, sing Let 'em know it's all know, the cash prestine Come on (Bridge: Butch Cassidy) Ain't nobody gonna stop me now I'm gonna do everything I can And ain't nobody gonna stop my flow You gonna hear me from coast to coast But Somebody's gonna make me mad And I'm a take everything they have So put it all in the past And do it so quick, so fast (Hook) (Verse 3: Nino Brown) Homeboy I got the grid locked That good yatch, gone breezes And they serve rock Some motherfuckers can't caught blocks Trey hop Roley bezel for you got swapped You like spider monkey, Nino Brown's sasquatch Them little haters, they be tickling me Brush 'em off, like the dust, on my Stacy, homie Once again, it's that motherfuckin' Mexican with attitude Paid my dues Steady, grindin' through the avenues Dogder blue, homie The city that I represent Los Scandulous, city where my homies did Fuck a fed Keep 'em Presidential stacked up Hear what I said, little soldiers gettin' taxed up Back the fuck up, move, biotch Get out the way You know the set, holmes And my A. stompin' Walkin' in my big brown boots Flossin' Stankin' eagle, that's my roots Motherfucker (Chorus) (Verse 4: Mr. Kee) Now put your money where your mouth is, anybody who doubt this Wherever you see the westside, that's probably where the south is United like a gang truce, khakis pants and house shoes But out in the Yay, it's throwbacks, beanies and bulletproof Spinners in their mouthpiece, heat up, and the old school Funk jump, no questions asked, ride like we supposed to Up in my city, see the bridge and the fall Know where the place on earth to be, than where this real turn off I'm smashing off a side show, but money must come first This ain't no overnight choice, I'm been a hustler since birth They call me Mr. Kee, the Latin boss Latin king, Latin don Spittin' like the Latin play, tryin' to put his Latins on And they say money is the root of all evil But there ain't nothing in this world to make me cross up my people I swear to God, I'll be a soldier til I'm six in the dirt My Henny bottle in my casket and a fist full of words The hustler's theme (Chorus) |
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