YOUNG JEEZY

YOUNG JEEZY - Mr. 17.5 lyrics

rate me

(AYYYEE, AY, AY, AYYEE....)

New shoes on the range rover, good one mine (vrrooomm)

Motherfuckers acting like I aint' supposed to shine

I aint' the 1, definately not the 2 (nope)

1 in the chamber when we aming at you (Blaou)

The young Bob Barker, the price is right

If you C.O.D. then you could get them tonight

Put the fish scale on the scale

If Roy went postal, all he do is check mail (HA HA)

Low key, under the radar

Tripple black 'Vet, yeah I call it the stealth

No currency machine, I could count it myself

Almost done, another quarter million in ones

Thunder storm in the body-tap, look what I've done

Chump change, I make it rain for fun (wussup)

Snow man, get cha' hands up high

It's ya' boy, Mr. 17-5

I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots

Snow man, get cha' hands up high

It's ya' boy, Mr. 17-5

I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots

I get them bars out of the back of my mind (that's how)

I reminisce like Mary J

Even in the drought, the boy kept that yay

100 percent served, Snowman's word

You can play my thug and my clientele (why)

I'm addicted to that new car smell

White cookies in a plastic bag

New shoes on the coupe with the paper tag

Whole life flash right before your eyes

See the state troopers and get butterflies

Got a thing for them Heckler and Koches

A minute 14 and Rolex watches

Somewhere in the back of my secret deranged brain

I get a rush when I tote that 'cane

Get money, Nigga fuck them haters

All we fear is the discovery and Inditement papers (wussup)

Snow man, get cha' hands up high

It's ya' boy, Mr. 17-5

I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots

Snow man, get cha' hands up high

It's ya' boy, Mr. 17-5

I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots

I'm a grown ass man, I stand on my own two

200,000 cash, yeah, I'm buying my own team

Right to your front door, operation so sweet

I like little dude who keeps his money so neat

But I still bury a nigga

Put The Mask on, Jim Carey a nigga (Blaou)

Swede ends in the Chevy, got me feelin akward

Careful with the sweets, dont burn my seats

You could live your whole life and not come close

Guess thats why these rap niggaz take notes

Rectite my adlibs, borrow my quotes

Make me Ihop a nigga, serve them with the toast

Next, they be dressing like me

But back in '93, they wasn't stressing like me (wussup)

Snow man, get cha' hands up high

It's ya' boy, Mr. 17-5

I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots

Snow man, get cha' hands up high

It's ya' boy, Mr. 17-5

I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots

Get this song at:  amazon.com  sheetmusicplus.com

Share your thoughts

0 Comments found