Terror Squad

Terror Squad - Yeah Yeah Yeah lyrics

rate me

[Remy Martin]

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

Check it

[Verse One: Remy Martin]

You see the girl get it popping like no other

Now they call me Streets cause I, be on the block and I'm so gutter

My flow a butter; see Rem got a whole lot of game

but none of y'all lame dudes going to fuck her

I'm on some chill shit

But if you fronting then I will flip

I'll give it to a little chick real quick

Oh you a real bitch? You ain't a bit real

You got little tits and your face looks like Emmitt Till

First I'm a get it hot, then I'm a get a deal

My budget none stop, mine paying 10 mills

And when I'm not in the hood, I'm rocking the hood

smoke Vanilla dutches and stuff on Holly-a-wood

And if I, pollyin the dick it's got to be good

I tell him I could change his life just like the lottery could

And now I got him good, he believes me and he should

Some dudes won't go down but a lot of them would

I know this nigga name, Eat-it-out, he like to eat it out

I just cooked in the crib and he still want to eat it out (Damn!)

Oh God its Remy Martin

In a hot pink Porsche with the purple carpets

Nigga!

[Hook: Remy Martin]

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

[Remy]

Oh God!

[Verse Two: Fat Joe]

Hot enough swinging Crack, who could believe he's in the cockpit (cockpit)

Overseas moving ki's like a locksmith (yeah)

Rocks from Witsick in the sits of neck (ok)

All I do is warn cause that's the big boy jet (ok)

Uh, you never rocked with the R in Chicago (noo!)

I picked up a bad bitch in a Marcielago (noo!)

I got cribs better year estates man (man)

I'm in L.A. with Atlanta plates fam (fam)

Still niggaz wanna go against Crack (Crack!)

But that's like ??? going against Shaq (Shaq!)

And that's too much diesel, I got too much people (people)

Motherfuckers, you crazy I'll leave you (leave you!)

And I ain't got to tell how many sets I trip

But you can find me on the woods now that's a testament

Or maybe at a lounge with an extra bitch

Eyecandy of the month, God damn she sick!

She got a problem, I can help her with that

Tell her man that she's fuckin with Crack

Bet he won't do nothin (nope)

Frontin like he gon' do somethin (nope)

Quick to tell you that his whole crew stunting (talk to him!)

Talk to me, c'mon

[Hook: Remy Martin]

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah!

[Fat Joe]

Yeah, feel that right there

Nod your head to this shit right here, that real hip-hop right there

It's Cook Coke Crack, TS, Remy Mar

Album coming, summer's ours cocksuckers

True Story, BX Burough, Uh!

Get this song at:  amazon.com  sheetmusicplus.com

Share your thoughts

0 Comments found