Eightball And Mjg Forever Lyrics

Forever Lyrics

Ooh la la, Bangladesh

Heyyy



See a nigga like me gonna get money till I get rich

Ride with a couple hundred G's in a biscuit

Stay down for whatever forever hustle with my mystic hoes



And soon you gonna see just how crunk this shit be once we get rich

'Til then it's back to hustlin' with my misfits

Deep, on a creep, fifty songs tucked under the prone

Fifty songs tucked under the prone



I keep a big old nigga beater heater

It's in the trunk of my four-door and my two seater

I'm make them say skeeter skeeter

Keep up and grab the ball back just like I'm Derek Jeter

I know you want to fuck my hoe but you too scared to meet her

See you ain't got enough bread to even start to treat her

The way a pimp did, and in the bed I'm even sweeter

I hustle, I got more Franklins in me than Aretha



If I had Oprah Winfrey, I would marry her and keep her

I spit as much knowlege as preachers and teachers

Just as long as the message reach us we all fill up the bleachers

I'm the M J G, I get in yo' shit

I ain't trying to run yo' clique, that be your friend so quick

Come on, where my money, let me hit the stage

Fuck them long interviews, just give us the front page

Black G apostrophe S us, forever bust

Them lyrics that make the people say that he got nuts



See a nigga like me gonna get money till I get rich

Ride with a couple hundred G's in a biscuit

Stay down for whatever forever hustle with my mystic hoes



And soon you gonna see just how crunk this shit be once we get rich

'Til then it's back to hustlin' with my misfits

Deep, on a creep, fifty songs tucked under the prone

Fifty songs tucked under the prone



Yeah man

Sticky weed kickin' in, big Ball steppin' in

Straight flying when I hustle, thats how I represent

Bounce, if you feelin' what I'm spitting up in your ear hole

I been rocking mics since I was 17 years old

Smoking up, drinking up, kicking dust, and fucking up

Everybody want a piece and we ain't got enough for us

Yeah, I touched a brick or two, pounds I done smoked a few

Got my bread and didn't do what the fuck I was supposed to do



Money blinds players, turns them into evil spirits

Niggaz die trying to live out these old rap lyrics

I try to give it to them just how it come to me

Real and unedited, not like it be on TV

Be myself and don't be what those haters want me to be

Take the good the bad hit my knees set me free

Make the bad good, put that on my leather and wood

Cinderella with my fellas deep off in the hood

Nigga



See a nigga like me gonna get money till I get rich

Ride with a couple hundred G's in a biscuit

Stay down for whatever forever hustle with my mystic hoes



And soon you gonna see just how crunk this shit be once we get rich

'Til then it's back to hustlin with my misfits

Deep, on a creep, fifty songs tucked under the prone

Fifty songs tucked under the prone



You need to stop sticking your hand out and trying to fold it

Turn around the broom handle and trying to hold it

It's plenty dirt to be swept, and leaves to be raked

Now you need to leave from my face, take heed to mistake

That you just made, thinking a player could get played

Thinking that a rapper could get wrapped and phone tapped

My whole life I learned the hard way to spot liars

And it seems like it's usually the ones thats right by ya

Fire



Jumping up out the tip with pistols sittin' up

Fuck me? Watch my gun skeet like it's bussing nuts

'Cept when it hit your cheek it burn then it split your cheek

Then come out the back of your head, now your just a memory

Graphic how I got it illustrated, rated triple X

Niggaz want to be the king, I don't give a fuck who's best

Just watch your mouth, talkin' down in the south

I'm gonna let my nuts hang and start punching clowns out



See a nigga like me gonna get money till I get rich

Ride with a couple hundred G's in a biscuit

Stay down for whatever forever hustle with my mystic hoes



And soon you gonna see just how crunk this shit be once we get rich

'Til then it's back to hustlin' with my misfits

Deep, on a creep, fifty songs tucked under the prone

Fifty songs tucked under the prone