Mathematics U.s.a. lyrics

TabCrawler.ComM / Mathematics / U.s.a. log in ] [ register ]
TABCRAWLER Online Sheet Music & Lyrics Archive Member Votes: 0 / 5(0 votes)
TAB VIEWS for u.s.a. lyrics: 61

To to be able to download PDF tabs, rate, comment & submit guitar tabs, bass tabs, keyboard tab, lyrics and drum tab files you must LOGIN TO TABCRAWLER Online Guitar Tabs & Guitar Pro, Bass Tab, Drum Tabs Archive MEMBERS ONLY AREA.
Did this lyrics for u.s.a. help you?
You must LOGIN to rate this lyrics.
Help us improve the tab & lyrics archive!

U.s.a. by Mathematics U.s.a. lyrics [Ghostface Killah] Walked up in the party like Riz', Ghost, Meth Allah's on the wheels, Chef on the left Fifty rep chin ups, the Wu rims up Put down the Heine' for a sec, tie my Timb's up Cake the Benz up, Starks ole' Got the summer house crib, beats spun, murder you, than lay Ric Flair cabbage and carrots, big exotic boat trips The honey motion, wind up in Paris [Chorus: Ghostface Killah] Had a bad dream and it came to me That I died and went to heaven, ain't have no weed God said "Son, let me see your ID" (Buddah Bless) gotta be right behind me Which reminds me.. [Buddah Bless] B, I'm just a thug After hip hop, money, sex and drugs After chicks that got money and tech's with slugs You see the head to toe, yo, the way I dress is love Plus them nine bang quick And the hand game speak for itself Like sign language, you lost and shook Like the fish that got away, man, I'm off the hook When these niggaz gotta pay, get it off the books [Masta Killa] Yo, knocked on a humble, slid through the system Bag me a C-Wall, on the bench of the bullpen My speaker for the pillow, my locked down presidents Conflictors, for the robbers and jukkers The buck fifty stitch zippers, if you wit us From my Chi-Town thugs to my Killa Cali gangstas Minnesota Wolves, Philly Six shooters We ain't chuck potent, we off money throw up [T-Slugz] It don't mean nothing to me Ya'll can't get nothing from me, stop frontin' from me and Ya'll ain't got nothing for me I take you where you want it to be, I'm who you wanted to see And I'm that same dude, that came through Runnin' with the same crew, still here, reppin' all the same rules CD's easy to move, honey say I'm easy to choose, that ain't easy to you And I stand out, big time, y'all easy to lose Niggaz face all screwed, I'm just breakin' the news And we do this for the cash, still keep a stash in a brown paper bag Me and my nigga Mad, light skinned, dark skinned, we lovin', what an ass Slow that thing down, ma, you movin' too fast [Panama P.I.] Yo, you movin' to fast Watch P.I., throw the shit on smash This game is high risk, player Strictly for brick breakers and brick layers, spit razors Jewel gem star, ball with the players, who grab the rim hard Walk on dot, and it's the P on hard When it's off season, I bring the pain til your balls bleeding Quick as a Porsche speed, my niggaz floss frequent Catch us up in court reading, with a Couple of sons, that's used to hustlin' drums I guess that's the only way we double our funds Everything hardcore, when we slide in the door Wait til we go back on tour New exclusive joint, two thousand and - and [Chorus] [Eyeslow] I walk with crooks, love guns, married to gats That cali' detach, your back from that battery pack My salary stack, chain make these other niggaz hurl Yeah it's O and G, I'm O and P in other nigga's girl I ain't lovin' nigga's girl, I'm just training, just banging Just hanging, smokin' while my other nigga's twirl (It's a gutter nigga's world) I'm all about the cheddar, man Any problems you want, speak to my beretta, man [Hot Flames] I was taught from young, that, live is what you making it Stuck on the crooked road, but I was taught to straighten it Every track flamin' it, every gat, aimin' it Before I start sprayin' it, and then I start banging it Strong arm, I'm claimin' it, if I bring a chick to the crib And she ain't my wifey, then we clangin' it Spit hard, probably cuz I'm missing my fam If it's beef, y'all niggaz better 'dip' like Cam [Todd] Son, you get mine, get knocked, and then I just get time But I'mma hit the boy hard, just like you was a punchline You spit, oh shit, call this here, lunch time I'mma throw hot sauce all over that lunch rhyme Rap for days, that'll blow like grenades Flow so hot, it'll make 'em run for shade Nowadays, the D's gettin' niggaz, picked up So I hustle and sit up and let God big up Fag, they call me Betty, cuz I got that ready rock For any nigga that's ready to go inside the baker shop Money mean a lot so I keeps mine in the wall You the type that get a dollar and go and run to the store Not me, each dollar I get, I make a copy To let y'all know, for the love of this, I was the body Looks are deceiving, so I'm askin' y'all to try me Man was the one, who made hand guns a hobby [Chorus x2]


There is no comments for the u.s.a. lyrics sheet music yet. Please post one now!

© 2019 TabCrawler Online Guitar Tab and Music Lessons Archive