Thangs Movin'

Yeah, Attic Crew, Attic Crew and Cooley C my nigga

Yeah, yeah, my nigga, its Attic Crew and Cooley C my nigga

Yeah, Youngbloodz, Youngbloodz and Cooley C my nigga

Um, Mark Twayne

Now it's time to let y'all nigga know about me

Oh I can get mo money, mo money, don't come to me

And everything I say that be on the blow

Rap for the love of money, stack it up once mo'

Going once, going twice, got the O for the LOW

Got my cheese in the soil, tryin' to make my flow grow

Hell no, never fall off

Slip pimpin', you can get it hard or get it soft

All day, round the clock tryin' to get it in

I ain't worried bout' the rich, cause I'm in the wind

All I got is my folks, Lord forgive me for my sins

And if this ain't for me, please make me thank again

Gotta get my shit right, tight like these gurls draws

Let me recognize the game, and all the flaws

While I'm out here, please let me come up

And watch my every step so I don't have to duck

Never wanted this, damn how a nigga stuck?

Hit me on the hill nigga, I'm a' sack it up

Rabbit on my head all day for good luck

On the hustle everyday, but who really gives a fuck

hook

So what you got, when you ain't got nothing to show

Thangs movin' slow, can't get your hands on no blow

Ain't got no flow, naw, need some quick cash

If hustlin' is the answer nigga, get up off your ass

I walk about the crib, with my mind on the dough

Been hustlin' these verses, ain't got a damn thang to show

I keep my head up, because I feel it's bout to pop

Done heard about a deal going down at the dock

Critics say it don't stop, til' you get it and it's gone

It's all about the fett', set it off, get it crunk

You catch me on the corner, I'll be buddy with the sacks

Off in the studio it be Twayne with the tracks

Fire, fire, like that dope gettin' smoked everyday

Got a call from my source, he on the way with the llell' (yeah)

Coming in from overseas, bout' 82 ki's

Not a word to be said, everybody hit your knees, lets leave

Get the cheese, make away with the blow

Slip in the door, right before we do the show

Mr. Dope Man, your looking kinda sick

Thangs movin' slow now that you ain't got shit

hook

So what you got now, you out of luck

Sellin' your soul to the devil, just to make a quicker buck

But for what, you took a chance, recieving half of some blow

And pushing them quarter ki's underground to keep the flow

It's toe to toe, we can take it to the deepest of the seas

And anybody else who wanna bite, then try a piece

Of these Youngbloodz, bustin' 30 slugs, so just perhaps

You crawlin' out of a shell

Finding ways up out these traps

Like craps, you out to gamble, losing everything you own

And still like to pretend as if this game gonna keep em' known

And do know, you in a ball of burning hell

So might as well take a ride on the weed into the A-T-L

And niggas swear we outdone and out-gunned

So what's the first attempt when they got you on the run

With fun, they shootin' tons of shots, so whose to blame

Nobody but yourself as you hold inside the pain

hook