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Shyheim
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Ones 4 Da Money (Mad Dollarz remix)
(a.k.a, a.k.a, the rugged child)
Microphone check, one-two, one-two, yo
Microphone check, one-two, one-two, yo
Microphone check, one-two, one-two, yo
Microphone check, one-two
Three's for ya hooker
But we all say, HOE!
My slang and my gang bows up the concrete
Like everybeing rocking
Don't sweat the technics
Narrow sony go get ya posse
Cause I've got a mosse, when you wear haratchies
Then you hear me kicking as I own you, it's mad ruggie
The jump on my tip, but
I taught nuff to naw it
Cause I let the microphone spark right after dark
And be dropping mad skillz like my name was Pad Mark
Loking at me strange leave dim raid it'll mase me
Had I did something wrong go and my dumb
Brothers keep stressing, no shorties the one
To make it real snappy, and little nasty-nasty
Things get pawsie-pawsie
It'll little gone and still can hold you on, on
Microphone so keep licking on that wish bone
You had you're chans but you feld out on tune
So you're hanging out with deuce, now you say that rock rues
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You make me laugh as you're mom's get smoke
You get ain't like a taffy, and red like the chokes
Flow with the flow from the Wu-tang free-style
You catch yo bow-bow, And they're two's this wild, child
From the Staten the Island,
Just an exemple how pop goes the pistol
Three's for ya hooker
But we all say, HOE!
Here comes the shortie with the tec twenty two
But If you tell Im gonna blast you
From the projects worst ghetto section
So my back but gun from protection
Shortie do-wa, more shoops and tupa'
Come and do with the Wu-tang hip-hop
Shortie wa-wa, shorts sniki sha-sha
Go-go, ga-ga, now you want me popa
Im not a mack daddy or my daddy mack
Touch my napsack, boy you gettin' pitch smack
I've got a style may not be formilliar
It's like both way you're callin' round in a cosha
Who will be the next to flex and face death
Ashes to ashes, and only dust is left
Three's for ya hooker
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