MAJOR FIGGAS - Yeah That's Us (Remix) lyrics

rate me

Remix

Hot runners

My nigga TL

Uh, MF shit, uh uh

Like that here, uh

Aleta!

[Chorus]

Yo who them playas makin money now? (Yeah that's us)

Wrist glis when its sunny now (Yeah that's us)

Cristal at the bar now (Yeah that's us)

20 inches on the car now (Yeah that's us)

But who them playas most hated now? (Yeah that's us)

Straight from the hood but we made it now (Yeah that's us)

Plaques platinum plated now (Yeah that's us)

MF come on baby say it now (Yeah that's us)

[Spade]

Ayo yeah that's us

We leave the lanes in the back

Play the range wit the rack

Or the Benz wit the hatch

Chrome the rims to match

Wit that shit in the ear

Yeah that's us fresh dressed when its jiggy affairs

Cause I'm a hot boy

Stayin warm in a cold land

Wit the D on any baller wit a cold hand

Die young?

I wanna be a rich old man

Two grand, blue and tan

Picture me rollin

[Dutch]

Yeah that's U to the S

M to the F

Niggas hate us

Cause we are what they tryin to be

It's us again

BET, videos, and broads

It's us again

Billboards, stares gettin hard

It's our time

Land jets on and off

Girl where you wanna go?

Aint to worry bout the cost

S-5 wit the cranberry gloss

Double nadas on top of it all

[Chorus]

[Bumpie Johnson]

Yeah that's B-U-M-P-I-E

You know how I be playa

Slanted eye 5

Bandana high tied

Goddamn it I'm fly!

Keep the stash in the car

Blow stacks at the bar

Jewels rock

Don't know?

Better ask who we are

Hard as shit

Hate to see me ballin, bitch

Pinky rings get "ooohs"

But they applaud the wrist

Standin O for the chain

I floss the pits

Only fuck wit the Figgas

I aint got no friends

Who dem playas waitin for yo ass in a parked Benz?

Turn yo head

Think we floggin out

But we them same cats that be ridin out

While you all up in the bar on your fake ass hemi rot

Run up the in the bar give you a real ass semi-shot

In this game niggas can't be trust

Who them playas comin for the title?

[Chorus]

[Bianca]

First bitch

Never salute me as a lady

Glass tint, pass vent

Jag coupe doin 80, shit

Yall know the name

Nigga the first and the last

For all of that I draw back

The first one to blast

See I blow high, blow pie

All on yo set

Sho shot, throw rocks

All on the neck

The show stop

When we ball in the 'vettes

Eleven karats on the chest

And it's all in bigettes

[Gillie]

Last but not least

The Kid on that Philly shit

Nine milli on the hip

Know the name

Gillie, Beitch!

Like Trinidad

Stick the jab

Back these niggas off me

Spin the jag

Sugar white

Slippers glossy

Link flossy

Wheel tinted

Bitches salty

All they see is a mink hood over the baldy

Then blazin

We drop, yall see nathan

Fuckin wit M dot F, the amazin, shit

[Chorus]

MF, future of the rap game

Yeah that's us at the bar

Yeah that's us wearin watches you can't even tell the time on, that's us

If you lookin around and you wonder why its like it is its cause of us

So either roll over or get rolled over, playboy

That's the way its gonna be in 2000

You know they gonna feel this one