Текст песни My Music - The Beatnuts , Problemz
F/
Armaretta,
Problemz
* Send
corrections
to
the
typist
(What's
that)
Some
incredible
shit,
some
incredible
shit
uhh
Twist
that
baby
up
in
here
'Ey
yo
Big
Psych
What
up,
what
up
mami
Get
on
the
mic
and
rock
the
M.I.C.
Light
a
hell
up,
puff
to
my
eyes
swell
up
When
it
comes
to
the
green
we
got
hell
up
(My
music
bang,
from
here
to
releswelup
(?))
Bang
you
with
the
music,
or
bang
you
accapella
Like
my
shorty
ran
up,
said
get
the
cheddar
I'm
making
to
much
I'm
getting
hated
by
the
tela
I'm
making
so
much
I'm
getting
customized
leather
Brand
new
shoes,
twenty-twos
and
better
So
I
pass
those
talking
birds
like
berreta
Heavy
rotation
like
a
propeller
Every
station
saying
this
is
something
you
never
Never
heard
before
So
crank
it
up
and
hit
the
art-core
(Art-core)
(art-core)
(art-core)
(art-core)
Yo,
yo
next
up
Yo
I
believe
that's
me
Armaretta,
Rock
the
M.I.C.
Invisible
being
gangster
on
the
game
If
this
about
hottest
bitch
then
you
know
my
name
See
me
in
the
street
better
bring
the
theme
Brooklyn
representitive,
the
road
to
fame
I
sit
back,
laid
back
thinking
'bout
all
my
gats
spittin'
Host
to
your
cat
man,
as
long
being
tapped
man
In
the
club
my
niggaz
never
left
me
Go
be
getting
out
with
knives
cuz
security
ain't
checking
Thread
me
stupid
better
think
twice
He
don't
know
how
I
get
when
I'm
in
the
bar
nice
Hot
licks
no
ice,
everything
look
right
Here
dun
hold
tight
I
dig
hopping
ass
hoes
man
as
Build
and
see
life's
about
getting
paid
About
getting
laid,
at
the
hard
getting
sprayed
BK
build
up,
white
fox
silled
up
You
expect
us
to
live
Six
hundred
a
crib
Now
who's
next
Yo
I
believe
that's
me
Passing
the
tree
to
Armaretta
ripping
it
constantly
I
specialize
in
distributing
raw
sixteens,
tokem
faries
Sending
emcees
out
the
frame
Like
pigeons
of
my
x-game
Intoxicated
demon
over
skeemon
Only
hit
the
key
to
club
jumping
Niggaz
in
there
trucks
dumping
Mammis
look
that
jump
and
then
they
truck
humping
Jumping
in
my
whip
All
on
my
dick
It's
flash
booties
like
watertheme
amusement
Jump
on
her
producers
Hit
the
exit,
the
tunes
is
dumb
soft
My
lungs
cough
Opens
allergies
and
metaphoric
Parafurnelly
or
lyrically
taking
care
of
you
Who
else
could
it
be,
but
that
nigga
named
Problemz
Alias
capping
camons
with
the
flif
up
in
your
feelings
Be
easy
and
fall
back
like
an
extra
And
don't
be
extra,
or
catch
extras
And
see
your
extra
large
fitted
Whenever
I
spit
it
automaticly
And
quit
it
problemo,
fowl
pass
me
the
demo's
Next
up
(Work
that
shit,
that
shit
baby
Problemoz,
Armaretta,
Big
Psych
Bounce,
just
bounce,
come
on
bounce
That's
my
music,
that's
my
music
Come
on
that's
my
music
Hip
hop
that's
my
music)
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