Play Your Flutes

[Chorus: Sleepy Brown]

People play your flutes

I hope I get to you

Hustlers play your flutes

Players play your flutes

Gangstas play your flutes

I hope I get to you

[Kurupt]

My pocket are tripling, banging so many weapons

It's different, sip on some ripple and here's where you stash the nickle

And baby a little pot of dough, I got fly hoes already bitch

And I started pimping an hour ago

Uh, I know that you be watching

Trying to play with my intelligence, I circulate the West

And what I calculate baby just from you taking up my time

Everything you got in every pocket you want is mine

Cadillac and Coup DeVilles dipping through the villa

Teaching the motherfuckers pretending to be realer

Hang on, and don't you let go

I got game to make the rain freeze like snow

Gipp, they just don't get

Gipp, they can't fuck with us

Keep it moving in motion we Dungeon Family baby

And I give to fuckers just the way Los Angeles made me

All my

[Chorus] (only the first third)

[T-Mo]

Listen up little brother, go after anything in this world you want to pursue

You don't have a clue

To who you might need in the future, so be good to everybody

Execute your plan, to the fullest

3-4 taking me from coast to coast

Sometimes taking us abroad first class only with my tenderoni

G-Mo-B style, that how we ride to the fullest

Baby from the bottom to the top

We be the cream of the crop, rising, grinding, everybody shining

From head to toe, that how it go, to the fullest 'bout to blow

With the Mo-B for life, Goodie Mo-B lumberjacking

Packing knowledge of self, I hope our lyric help

Somebody who might need some, inspiration of a whole black nation

Coming together for 2004

That's how it go, nigga

You know the Goodie Mo', and you know that nigga Mo'

That's how it go

[Big Gipp]

Gangstas, you ain't gotta kill a man, try

Sometimes you gotta let a little homie walk the line

Just to show him how close he came to get his little ass burnt

Like some honey baked toast

Walking the hood comatose 21, 24 hours out the day

In the lord I pray, but the S-K

Spray a little bit then the police will come

Holding my nuts everytime I don't run

Hung in the hood, in the slums, in the PJs

In the ghetto deep in the country the wood with no streetlights

Slide to the left baby I'mma hit it right

Came into the front yard, on-on-one fist fight

O. G.'s from the hood told me to keep my shit right

And if they try my mama house, I'll take the first flight

The same niggaz that said they had my back

They got them folks sniffing 'round my pine, I'm gone

[Chorus] (only the first two-thirds)

[Khujo]

Yeah, uh

Gangstas, put down your dukes

Hustlas pick up your flutes

It's your boy 'Jo Goodie, and people don't shoot

I hope I get to y'all in one piece

Cuz tomorrow ain't promised, I hid in the belly of the beast

Folks still digging, in the trash can trying to get something to eat

HIV running rapid in my community

Teen pregnancies, children having children

People sleeping, on the street

So it ain't all G-double O-D

Don't think I got it gravy when you see 'Jo Goodie on TV

I know this gon be the death of me

But situations and circumstances got be twisting broccoli

Last year, the devil tried to kill me

But y'all showed mercy, on him, he pleased

Now I'm a below the knee amputee, back on the street

Happily married with four kids, and I'll still split your wig

[Chorus]

[Outro: Kurupt] (overlap the chorus)

Real G'd Up

Goodie Mob

Kurupt Young Gotti

J-Wells, Bonzi J-Wells

Dungeon...