C-BO - Paper Made lyrics

rate me

[C-Bo]

My whole crew is platinum

Quick to throw it down with Magnums

We ain't duckin' when the guns start blastin'

What's happenin'

West Coast rollin', Benjamins foldin'

Nigga bank accounts holdin', more loot than the jews

And I just stepped fresh up out some county blues

Had me all on the news, cuz I'm gettin' my paper

And my goal life now is livin' it major

Coppin' Crystal, Champagne

I'm in the 'Natti with the blow brains

Leavin' my mansion up in Spokane

The dope Game, was lovely

Out with the flip rollos and drop Benzes when they clucked me

Now the haters wanna mug me, cuz I'm AMG kid candy on some dub leech

But fuck them tricks cuz they haters

They stick out like short thumbs around Playaz

[Chorus x2]

All I wanna do is get my paper straight

Roll up highways sideways out the gates

Luxury livin' baddest women and I'm straight

Back up with the flames BITCH

I'm Paper Made

[C-Bo]

I still scream "Fuck the World" _Til My Casket Drop_

I give a fuck about parole and these bastard cops

He could see me on TV coat with two glocks and a P

Cuz some bitch nigga snitched on me down in Cincinnati

I bet the bitch thought he had me

Ain't that a bitch how niggaz trip

That nigga must have been smokin' the cavi

I won't rest until my 'Natti niggaz get him

Run up in him hit him with a blade up of in his kidney

And leave him face down, real niggaz don't play around

Paralyze that motherfucker from the waste down

Cuz he's a bitch turned snitch on the next nigga

On sight I'm takin' his life with the Tec trigga

And give a fuck about his kid, cuz he didn't give a fuck about mine

When I was servin' my bid

I knew he was a flunky, punk nigga dressed like a junkie

Runnin' around with a pound of bunk weed

[Chorus x2]

[C-Bo]

See I'm all about the cash fool

Blast to get a mill and I keep it real fool

I owe court and the streets, fuck a deal

Wanna see me cuffed and stuck in the back seat of a cop car

When I got jewels and pull more strings on a good tar/guitar than a rock star

Cop car by the UB wanna do me down like Doobie

Straight haters is what you fools be

Hangin' on my balls like newbies

You do three's dumped outta trees is how we do these

Enemies when we WC 'em down like my crew be

Pack heaters nonetheless and now better leave his

Bulletproof vest down in the Beemer

Hit 'em up we lead 'em then streetsweap 'em

We don't need 'em

That nigga's a bitch like Ru Paul

Whipped his with his ass you'll be sold like blue balls

We some murderers, haven't ya heard of the straight killa

All black, the realest on the map, mission to get the millas

Y'all best off feel me, a motherfuckin' real G

In this shit Paper Made til they kill me kill me

[Chorus x2]