Gotta Have Hearth

That's Ant BEEZY, nigga - off the HEEZY

Is he my nigga? FO SHEEZY nigga!

What, what? Say what, say, say what, say what?

(Kev B in the motherfuckin house)

Say what, say what, say what, say what?

(Bombay all day nigga this is fo-TAY!)

(Bombay all day punk this is FO-TAY NIGGA!)

(Verse One)

Fresh up out the Testarossa

Still buzzin off that sticky green Cali doja

Last night had, way too many bitches jock

Mr. Player himself, gon' always keep it poppin

And stoppin you and yo' ability to come tight, mack like Dolemite

Sometimes you learn the hard way, but you gon' get it right

Keep listenin, discipline plays a strong part

The majority of these bitches ain't got no heart

enough to roll with the punches, hundred dolla bills and brunches

Comin home in somethin way tight that's scrumptious like

steak and lobster, dank from rastas

And we don't roll with nothin but, G's and mobsters!

Zenithes, Daytons, twenty inch chrome ones

Never know the feelin of a bitch 'til you own one!

Yeah we Bay riders, call us, murder for hire

Closer, than hittin home runs than McGwire and Sosa

We supposed to be, killin 'em off, hittin 'em off

with this old ill shit, givin 'em an overdose of this so real shit

So feel this, way down deep up in your liver

Give a, nig a chance for the alcohol to make you quiver

Still a, assassin blastin any nigga who think he can outlast

the master splash yo' ass in a, pool of blood

So ask the, nigga who done rolled up and got his, dome split

(Dome split) I don't give a fuck motherfucker wait 'til the chrome hit!

(Chorus: repeat 2X)

They say you got to have heart

I roll with dese niggaz dey mob figures and killas you niggaz feel us

They say you got to have PAPER

Shit, cause life ain't long, nigga best to get yo' hustle on

(Verse Two)

A player's proposition got 'em wishin they was laced up

Perfect conversation plus my new just game I make up

Talkin bout, mash you got me bout it now I'm gettin dough

Dress in style every day, own many expensive clothes

Ay tell yo' potnahs they can be a part of all the benefits

Ay, pinky finger diamonds all the finest ain't no limits and

what we tryin to do menage-a-trois up in the rental then

you can make a move you never lose with a gentleman

All about my paper fettucini and lucciano

If we keep this pimpin right we movin into condos

Baby wanna treat to play, she wanna lace me

Dress me up from head to toe and shoppin sprees at Macy's

Ay, copped me all the flyest shit, like Tommy Hilfiger

Calvin Klein cologne just wanna zone with a real nigga

We can do it live and go through all your wildest fantasies

Tell me yeah you wanna be as freaky as you wanna be

Niggaz is so fake and phony

Nine times out of ten they ain't Oscar Mayer beef they Lady Lee bologna

Speakin on shit they never did, soundin like a tweeter

Wishin they was a mid, ho you don't know you blowin out like an amp

Lickin mo' pussy than the post office lick stamps

Money over bitches, boy you don't remember?

Just kick back and sautee, nigga never simmer

Oh yeah you hoes you triflin too, haha

(Chorus)

{*ad libs to fade*}