Constantly Counting Lyrics & Chords By The Don Ramos Players

Big L Fuck all the glamours and glitz, I plan to get rich I'm from New York and never was a fan of the Knicks And I'm all about expanding my chips You mad cause I was in the van with your bitch With both hands on her tits Corleone hold the throne, that you know in your heart I got style plus the way that I be flowing is sharp A while back I used to hustle, selling blow in the park Counting g stacks and rocking ice that glow in the dark Forever hottie hunting, trigger temper I'm quick to body something You looking at me like I'm probably fronting I fuck around and throw three in your chest and flee to my rest I'm older and smarter this is me at my best I stopped hanging around y'all cause niggas like you Be praying on my downfall, hoping I flop Hoping I stop, you probably even hope I get locked Or be on the street corner with a pipe smoking the rock I got more riches than you, fuck more bitches than you Only thing I haven't got is more stitches than you Fucking punk, you ain't a leader what, nobody followed you You was never shit, your mother should have swallowed you You on some tag-along flunky yes man shit Do me a favor; please get off the next man dick And if you think I can't fuck with whoever, put your money up Put your jewels up, no fuck it put your honey up Put your raggedy house up nigga or shut your mouth up Before I buck lead and make a lot of blood shed Turn your tux red, I'm far from broke, got enough bread And mad hoes, ask Beavis I get nothing Butthead My game is vicious and cruel Fucking chicks is a rule If my girl think I'm loyal then that bitch is a fool How come you can listen to my first album And tell where a lot of niggas got they whole style from? So what you acting for? You ain't half as raw, you need to practice more Somebody tell this nigga something, before I crack his jaw You running with boys, I'm running with men I'm a be ripping the mics until I'm a hundred and ten Have y'all niggas like "damn it this nigga done done it again" I throw slugs at idiots, no love for city cops I sport a pretty watch, eight-hundred and fifty rocks I'm making wonderful figures I don't fuck with none of you niggas I might pull out this gun on your niggas And rob every last one of you niggas 2 Aight, let me kick some more shit, one more time (Yeah-yeah… Spit, some more) - Bobbito Aight, check it out, yeah, check it out Yeah, check it out, yeah, check it out Uhh, check it out, aight, check it out Aight, we gone hit it like this, check it out Yo check it, yo my shit is hot like jerk chicken I should rob you but with that cheap shit, you ain't worth stickin' I've got a left hook that be leaving guys knocked out Keep fronting and I'ma choke you till your eyes pop out I was taught that if a nigga swing, swing right back Battle Corleone, why do a stupid thing like that Yo, I'm not in the mood son, so don't push me tonight Plus I fucked your little sister and that pussy was right That pussy was tight — gripping my dick like a pair of pliers You fucking snitch; right now you prolly wearing wires It's not a joke, so as soon as he laugh I'ma strip him naked and stick a long broom in his ass Leave him heart-broken, make him quit rap and start smokin' My album is done, so no there ain't no parts open I'm not a sweet stud, I'm a street thug That's quick to beat a nigga like a cheap rug till he leak blood You sure soft, watched you fall off, might slide your whore off Then call all off, and tear your jaw off My life is far out, I got star clout Every week bring a different car out Go to clubs and buy the bar out You ain't a player, put that cigar out Take that suit off, before I shoot off, and tear your roof off Leave your clothes bloody-red like the nose of Rudolph I rocked many stages and never got booed off I might let this gat burst, put you in a big black hearse For that wack verse, should have tried these other cats first Cause none of y'all niggas can fuck with me And if your man wanna join, I got McGruff with me We puff much izzy I do shit that only tough men do And them cats you with fuck them too, I'll buck them too Be careful what you rush into, you lame-ass nigga No dough, always on the train-ass nigga Canal street, 10-karat-chain-ass nigga You got fucked upstate, you cupcake How many dicks can your butt take I ran through every bitch in my path I was fuckin' chicks in the ass when I was six-and-a-half Yo, I'm a take you out your misery And after this, nigga, put you in the social study book cause you're history