and I don't worry 'bout a thing. I wanna live this forever, Never wanna leave (wanna leave), Uuh, this is the place for you and me, (one thing missing now). Mr. DJ
Μετάφραση: SOAP. Ο κ. DJ.
got my respect and you motherfuckin players (Players, players) To my man King Tee, seem like he cant think Without a drink but he's a player, he's a player Got to admit it, TLA, you a
dig the whole for the coffin. It's no mystery Rey that he's a dead man walkin. (El dia de los muertos) Say a prayer for the livin. Ask God to take my
tracks) Jammin' my music live (Soulja Boy Tell 'Em) His own fault it's a gas DJ turn me up, do not turn me down Just gon' turn me up Roscoe, that's what's
just a figment you never see my ghost, move through the L-O-X triangle pyramid This is for them cats that's like "who's the L.O.X." better float up to
play John Jay back around the way Fish Filet Mr. DJ, turn it up a notch hit the replay For dirt bomb niggaz in the P J To cling on, bring on the good
[dj pooh] It's the p-double-o-h in the sky I don't need a cape cause I'm already fly Like a skydiver, a nigga got drag Like a race car driver, plus i'
cabron, One,two,three 6-1-9 down with P.O.D. como la ves, facil como une,dos,tres mr.DJ,play that rola otra vez, and watch how many people go off under
'm still in the mix One of the many young policin breathers knockin out sequence Life's a l-o-t-t-o, carry a switch for self-defense Rappers try to front
Me I be loungin' between the ice Sippin' Don P with a dime piece right! Whisperin' in my ear about menage a trois Us and her partners, El Passe panties
'm a flip or slip don't even trip 'Cause I'm a destroyer My homie Theo is a DJ not a lawyer dope, fly employer On the static, that's my station to get
and decide what's the deal Walkin up the block, kickin rocks with no scrill Ain't lovely My main man P-Funk in a Double O, truck bubbly, honks at me What
P.Y.P. like soldiers (yeah) I'm the type that hold dough like Tommy (Hilfiger) (uh huh) Fuck a bitch like (Martin) then tell her it's over (it's over
somethin on the history [Zaakir] I'm a H-I-P H-O-P H-E-A-D, been since one-nine-eight-three R to the A-P-P-I-N Eighty-four was the year I picked up
see Clockin a double nickel on the L-I E When it dawned on us that it was, ten o'clock Turned on the tunes to hear the DJ's rock The hands got to clappin
's and tapes Ask them to scratch a record, you will see he fake If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cheese cake Take the DJ off your name, Mr.
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em In and out of lanes like a New York cab I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New York cab Who's this fake nigga
