but now the cops the only homies he got When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop You sell records but a GGG-u not! Acting big on the
band I feel his finger tips, grip my hips And I slip as we dip into a state of bliss Mama used to warn me To beware of those Latin lovers She said I
fondo del mar, carcajadas que me hicieron llorar... Con un loro que blasfema en latin, le hacen coro los "sultanes del swing" y una big band con un trombon
Will Smith] Big Will Yo! I first met ya had a sense I was bound to get ya Gotta be honest ma I'm astounded with ya Magazine Latina where I found your
all across your noggin I ain't finna argue I'm still big shit poppin nothing changed but my clothes, triple digits in my pockets rubber band bank rolls
they stars on the block I move in right after ya, sign your shit like Metallica You would think I came with drums and a band When the crocodile step on
Many heads got slaughtered back in Latin Quarters Like this brother named Rick was thick but got bit By the same motherfucker that he ran with Band of
of the band I feel his fingertips grip my hips And I slip as we dip into a state of bliss Mama used to warn me to beware those Latin lovers She said
a gat than run, cause what comes around goes around faster then a gatling gun These broke niggas say goin to Manhattan's fun I'm on punta cana shore wit a Latin
me, but now the cops the only homies he got When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop You sell records but a GGG-u not! Acting big on
, but now the cops the only homies he got When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop You sell records but a GGG-u not! Acting big on the
do I take them all across your noggin I ain't finna argue It's still big shit poppin nothing changed but my clothes, triple digits in my pockets rubber band
Looked up in the mirror Saw some playa' potential I started workin' out Just like a mad man Learned some rap slang Even started off a rap band I
them all across your noggin I ain't finna argue I'm still big shit poppin nothing changed but my clothes, triple digits in my pockets rubber band bank
the band I feel his finger tips, grip my hips And I slip as we dip into a state of bliss Mama used to warn me To beware of those Latin lovers She said
