Bitches S And Bizness Lyrics

Bitches S And Bizness lyrics

We gon do it like this,

From the ATL, 

All the way down to the 305 M-I-Yayo,

Cocaine capital nigga,

Yeah, da Boyz N Da Hood,



The bizness is bitches

The pussy I keep in my pocket,

The niggaz keep watchin

They know I'll be rockin my watches,

Deez keep knockin

They know I be shootin to spot em,

Weed boyz in da hood

Strictly distribute da product,

My niggaz get slizzered

I'm smokin and chillin in Pradas,

Fuck a 9-to-5

We gon just do what we gotta,

I'm in my Chevy-thang

Everything runnin is proper,

Don't come too close

Cuz I'm subject to up wit my chopper,

We in da streeeeets (we in da streets)

Who got da weeeeeed, (who got da weed)

I got a couple keys

Wanna eat? Fuck wit me,

You don't wanna see me pissed off, (yeah)

Fuck until my dicks off, (boyz n da hood)

Nigga this is riff ruff.



Well I don't rock a lotta ice

Cuz I'm keepin it slum, (I'm keepin it slum)

Six slugs at the bottom

Lock and keep em in tone, (lock and keep em in tone)

Crack rock cocaine,

What we keep where I'm from, (what we keep where I'm from)

You don't believe me?

Nigga come and see where I'm from, (nigga come and see where I'm from)

Keep two or three heataz

Dug deep in my bum, (deep in my bum)

The police tryin to keep

The concrete on my palms, (the concrete on my palms)

But I got shit to do (yeah)

And I got bricks to move, (okay)

But y'all playin for 4 mil

You can git for 2 nigga, 

And try to play me dude (yo)

Ima putcha ass in some baby shoes 

And I don't mean the ones that yo baby use,

I know I talk about my niggaz a lot

But I'll shoot too,

Give me somethin to nut up about,

And watch me shoot you.



Chorus (2x):

I woke about 6 in the morning,

Gotta get paid,

Fuck moanin and groanin,

Hit the block

Get the truckin rollin, rollin,

By the night time

My pockets is swollen, swollen,



From dusk to dawn

We stay posted up in project homes, (homes)

Keep a plastic tone

Y'all want it bring it on, (bring it on)

We'll creep up in yo home

Hang you by yo bitch's thong,

Said you's a guerilla

Say what's happenin King Kong?

We real playmakers

And this is not ESPN, (ESPN)

Welcome to da gutter

Now watch this shitfest begin, (yeah)

I ain't no fuckin Jack Triple

But I'm bakin cakes, (cakes)

Plus my cakes more than triple

What that fag makes, (that's right)

Fuckin just to stay awake

Makin sho I never stumble,

Grind it till my bank statement

Look like social security numbers, (exactly)

Call us cookie monsters

Makin cookie niggaz crumble, (crumble)

Catch a double-digit jersey number

If you fumble.



I'm gon tote the pole

Lock and load,

Shoot til ya hear dat BOW,

Take my time

Speak my mind

Like I'm 47,

Gotta country slang baby

You can tell ain't us, (yeah)

We can kill too

A lotta us got dem Feds at us,

Still keep a stankin kitchen,

Cuz in da midst of da 'caine on da way 

Da crack smell durin da intermission, (hahaha)

Triple-beam, hand-held, hang-scale

Got some caine stain colored plain fingernail,

Chrome black dish backed up just our clientele,

Saw him walk a thin line but it's not a fat red, (fat red)

Ima rap for deez packed heads

Gats, crack sales, sex and blacks that wanna stack mils,

Smokin on dem Percocet

Runnin in yo house ramblin 

Wonderin where da work is at,

Ho's in the third still a-hollerin

Where dem furs is at,

Phone in Atlanta ring da family,

Where dey workin at,

Pay a chain.



(hey, hey, hey, hey, heyyyyy)



6:45 AM, life's great,

Got the baking soda,

I'm cookin pancakes, (that's riiiiight)

Where I'm from nigga I'm the man,

Take em out, break em down

Like a lapdance, (yeaaaaaah)

I ain't playin

I got hella choppers,

All my partners deal

And they got helicopters, (that's riiiiight)

It's like my old job

But a lil different,

(what? heyyyyy)

I used to work at Church's Chicken,

But now I cook my chickens in my own kitchen, (what)

A kitchen fork and a glass pot,

Try to rob if you want

Getcha ass shot.



Chorus (2x):

I woke about 6 in the morning,

Gotta get paid,

Fuck moanin and groanin,

Hit the block

Get the truckin rollin, rollin,

By the night time

My pockets is swollen, swollen...