Mase

Mase - Stay Out Of My Way lyrics

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[Intro]
 Hey yo  dogs  for real?
 I'm yo' man but you got the address up
 Cuz now you got chicks talk' "What the fuck"
 "What the fuck"  "what the fuck"

 [Mase]
 You know somebody swung on me & cut me?
 (Come on come on come on)
 You know somebody pulled a gun on me or robbed me?
 (Come on come on come on)
 Is they stoppin' my money? (Hell no)
 (Come on come on come on)
 Then it ain't no problem here
 (Come on come on come on)
 C'mon I ain't wit that man
 (Yeah, what, what)
 Just throw my B back on

 Yo, yo, yo
 You know my mission ain't complete
 'Till I hit the city with a 600 Jeep
 Hardest nigga from All Out you wanna meet
 Hash in the dash with heat under the seat
 Chased Kate 52 states straight
 But still ain't nothin' sweet
 I took a year off to let the young nigga's eat
 Everybody wit' me want bucks
 Walk around platinum linked up
 With money like Brink trucks
 Shit get too hot? Puff, put the minks up
 Come back in the summertime like fuck it, it's summertime
 All Out tattoo's over wife beaters
 Get mail Branson, never buy reefer
 Bentley five seater, it's all for real
 First rapper to close down a mall with a mil'
 The clothes, the hoes, the cars that flaunt
 Plus the money so I'm on nigga one
 Talk to me

 1 - [Total]
 If you don't fuck with me
 Like I don't fuck with you
 It ain't much for us to talk about

 Cuz you don't fuck with me (Yo, yo, yo, yo)
 And you know I don't fuck with you
 So all I can say (uh uh)
 Is stay out my way

 [Mase]
 Don't take much to wake up, taped up
 Fuck the district, I live in Jacob
 Hit a nigga, bitch nigga, kiss and made up
 See me without Puff, try to get your weight up, uh
 Ain't nuttin' between you and me
 And on the real, nuttin' you could do wit me
 I got cats that'll find you and leave you
 Pull that hoodie over your head
 And put five in your Ceasar
 Doubt me now and die a believer
 Run and catch bullets like a wide receiver
 When the war's on, put your gloves and your Gore's on
 Teflon hard hat nigga, put it all on
 Beef no more that's what other nigga's for
 I got a fam' that love to go to war
 Love to get locked up, love pickin' the odds up
 Love not comin' home, love to be boxed up
 I'm from a town where kids could pop up
 Little punks in garbage bags, body all chopped up
 I'll come around your block knowin' you got popped up
 Arms are rocked up, Bentley wit' the top up
 Uh, you don't stop, come on

 Repeat 1 while:
 What, what, what
 Yeah yeah yeah what what what
 You don't like me nigga? (What the fuck?)
 You wanna fight me nigga? (Huh? huh?)
 Stop frontin' nigga (You frontin' nigga)
 Uh

 [Mase]
 Yo, one, two, three, four
 Everybody on the floor
 You see grams, I'mma see craters
 By the time you see land I'mma see acres
 Drop another CD just to see paper
 And before you see me you'll see the maker
 All I see is more chances, more advances
 More houses, no spouses, more beaches
 Wild thugs around me and no leechin'
 When they gun's out played, there'll be no reachin'
 Ballin' in Dirty South wit' no creases
 And all I see is more F-in' iced out Jesus pieces
 The rock over Sean John fleeces
 You never love the money like we love it
 Pay the chick sucka, and let her teeth touch it

 All Out
 Bad Boy forever
 The Movement
 What

 Repeat 1
 Repeat 1
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: Bad Boy Records (5)

Details:

Released in: 1999

Language: English

Appearing on: Double Up (1999)

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