J.R. Writer
J.R. Writer - Man Up songtekst
Je score:
[Hook: x2] Nigga stand up (what) put ya hands up (what) Keep the tan on the land and your cam tucked (what) It's a damn must For me to separate the pimps from the chimps homie, it's time to (man up) Yeah let's do it [Verse 1:] You's a damn duck, you ain't never man up (nope) At the precinct about to give ya man up Like for real man tell him where the tan tucked Or you'll be in handcuffs sittin' on the damn bus (stop cryin') Lookin for a way out, lookin for a day out (day out) And when that day comes, shit I'm lookin just to stay out Pushers know what J bout (what's that) I keep a couple doors in the crib, feels like you're lookin through a playhouse (whoa) It's been this ugly, the bitches love me (me) Ya cars are old, ya rims look rusty (look at ‘em) Fam I'm blingin trust me (trust me) Princess cut, fuckin look like the princess cut me (bling) Glits cost me 30, a brick that's a birdie (birdie) District, dipshit, I'm rich and it's early (early) Cause my chain carry enough ice to fix you a Slurpee, heard me [Hook x2] Uhh, Yeah, I'm back in [Verse 2:] Yo, I breeze by the coppers, weave the imposters (eeeeerrrt) Speak to the rastas, round table feastin' on pasta (hey) Plus keep a skee on my roster (to do what) Stuffed with enough damn candy to be a piñata (holla) Laid by the pool with piña colata Weed and some vodka, ohh boy, squeeze on her knockers (ohh boy) Every bitch I'm seen with is proper Still I'm wham bam, fam lam, see ya mañana (see ya) The Don Juan for surely, a Don want ya shorty (shorty) Shorty check me out, ya moms can't ignore me (no) Disgusting, invite ya aunt to a orgy (come on over) Young but I'll still be the bomb when I'm 40 (word) Look creep I'm the truth, I speak for the youth The streets where my peeps be all week on the stoop Still breeze through in coupes (uhh huh) You'll spot and stop like why drop the top when you can see through the roof, poof [Hook x2] Allright let's wrap this up