Get back motherfucker! You don't know me like that! (Get back motherfucker! You don't know me like that!) Yeek yeek woop woop! why you all in my ear?! Talking a whole bunch of shit That I ain't trying to hear! Yeek yeek woop woop! I ain't playing around!

When you shoot across the sky like a broken arrow It's so hard to keep yourself on the straight and narrow It's all I've got Yeah when you hit the ground It's hard to get to heaven when your falling hell bound Every break, every burn, every toss, every

Your bullshit come off of that Someone tell these motherfuckers that Hop is back! I got my du-rag on with my fitted sittin’ on it Now I’m ready to fuck the game up, nigga They can get it (They can get it) You can get it (You can get it) Y'all can get it

Yo nahmsayin? Yeah she'll take you out too kid Take this shit out A rainy day laid up thinkin' sittin' gettin' bent Watchin' old seventy flicks, mind's on the slouch Back on the couch, heard the phone ring It was a shorty from uptown I met back day, long

I put the drop on you kid, now I got you You got the heart to get busy without your crew? Let's get it on nigga, do what we gotta do You buckin' me, I'm buckin' right back at you Now, '94 to '95, innocent without crime (Drop that shit)Yeah, yeah, check

Uh God uh you know what we gotta do son Why know what I'm sayin? Word up Make that millions fam No doubt, it's only there for the takings son Matter of fact let me get some of that beer son We drunk all that shit hey yo 44th Side convention Queens

Homey, if I go to Hell and you make it to Heaven Just get me to the gate, and I'll talk my way in Got a gift, I'm special with the flow I'm good Shit, I done talk my way out of the hood Now if you followed my footsteps and walked through my shoes You

Cuzz here comes Tecca Nina I be bustin (bustin) parents be fussin and cussin Cause all I talk about is silicone and muffins (muffins) So if you didn't come to hear some strips clubs hits Then get the hell on cause I'm gettin my mail on; I'm hustlin I'm

Shitted on 'em, Man I just shitted on 'em Put yo' number two's in the air if you did it on 'em Put your number two's in the air if you did it on 'em All these bitches is my sons And I'ma go and get some bibs for 'em A couple formulas, little pretty lids

Get your walk on, get your head tight I know you feelin the shit, shit is dead right Get your bounce on, back dat ass up Bitch pass me the bottle, fill your glass up (Yeah) I can drink a whole Henessey fifth Some call that a problem but I call it a gift