Re-Re
Do It
[Chorus]Do it, (come on now)Do it, (come on now)Do it,(Come on) Do the damn thing[Verse 1: Rasheeda]Come on let's start this shitShawty let's crank this shitA little something for them hatin' hoesWho gets nothin' but them knees and boesWhy y'all all in my grill,Why y'all can't keep it realAlways tryin' to plot and schemeWant to live this life is just a dreamAin't no I in teamsAll the real niggas know what it meanCatch me y'all just to slowHatin' hoes gotta let y'all goDon't never try to stop my flo'Won't tell you this shit no mo'The baddest hoe that you ever seenTwo triple O, shawty bout that green[Verse 2: Que Bo Gold]Naw they don't understandLetras de cancionesThese niggas don't understandThese muthafuckers think we playinSee they don't know what we sayinFake niggas in our grillFake niggas all in our grillThese niggas don't want to get to itThese niggas don't want to do it[Chorus][Verse 3: Re Re]You can tell a real nigga from the fake fakeA trill nigga that's down in the cake cakeA hot girl that's clean not stank stankSome bad weave for somebodySo you took a little drankSo I guess it made you think that you could when you can'tWit the N with the ain'tAin't nobody got time round here to playing roundSucker with the big sack nigga better lay it downComin' through ain't bout that shady shitBoy I'm mo' dirty than Dusty RhodesI drop the beat and rock the flo'Representing that Que Bo GoldSo don't you try to test us out thinkin' we country wit no skills'cause I drop the bass and tame the bassPut this fire to yo grill[Verse 4: Rasheeda]Well I was born in Illinois okay ahRaised in Atlanta, G-A yahLived in New York and L.A. yeaMy nigga I'm da shit no matter where I staycause, uh, I was cut like that, lil buddy I'm stacked like thatFrom the front to the side to the back, Rasheeda, and I'm tight like thatI ain't never been worried bout anotherCutter her buddy, lil buddy I don't studder9 double lock chrome for the lame lameBig faces in my pocket not the chump changeRide the Benz with the wood grain, grilled out, smoke frame,With the knock knock38 pop pop all you haters just stopOr you gone get dropped[Chorus]Verse 4: Pastor TroyUh, Stick em, ha ha ha, stick emFuck them pussy niggas and who ever wit emAll I say is sic emAnd there go my boysD-S-G-B, Pastor damn TroyBoy you ain't readyBoy you don't want itBoy we ain't ready, bitch get disappointedShit, all I know is southern blo'd not lower than a dimeFrom thirty piece to quarter ki we strictly on the grindNo time to spit no evidence, no evidence, no chargeSince they ain't got no evidenceI gave them my lil boyThe scars from my hand as I crank up the speakerDrop the bomb on you bitches, Pastor and RasheedaBitch, do it![Chorus]
From Letras Mania