Csre - B.I.G Lyrics

You ain't really gotta tell me that shit that nigga be talkin' about, man
Oh God, oh my motherf*ckin' God
I can't even be worried about this shit, bro
That nigga did all that talkin' over us and that soft and shit

All that cap ass shit, nigga's was gettin' listened to, man

Oh my motherf*ckin' God

L
That nigga can't be gang crew, my ma
That nigga could be gang crew, mob, but even if he f*ckin' try to, he ain't gonna be gang
Crew

That nigga ain't be gang crew, mob
That nigga ain't be gang crew, mob
All the time, nigga, I'm gon' be gang crew, mob, that's all
That nigga can't be gang crew, my ma

Big nigga, but I lost a couple pounds
Take it if she trippin', I might pull a Tee outside

Ain't nothin' in my system but a f*ckin' three-five
I been a little crash-out since the f*ckin' knee-highs
Man, I hit his hoe from March to June and threw the peace sign
Man, that lil' hoe left eye, hit her with my best sign

Bae me and you wasn't datin' and you can't hit that X line
That shit ain't true, you just drainin' when I use that text line
And I don't know what y'all hoe told you, don't try that goofy gangster shit, bro we
Still know you

Bitch, she be cappin', tellin' you we exercise
The only thing I ever stressed out was her thighs
When I f*ck her face-to-face, she love to look me in her eyes
She call me CSRE Bruce Wayne, I got money in disguise

We got chickens, bawk, bawk, I can serve you legs and thighs
You try to be that gangster, now you f*ckin' testifyin
That lil' hoe just a wankster, I need her to analyze
Hey, I couldn't been her nigga, I just couldn't wait in line

Don't get me wrong, hoe, I know you hella fine
Main reason why you in this whip, I gotta handle mine
Err season I just change my drip like weather any time
Man for no reason I just pick a bitch like baby come be mine

Man I told her strike a pose, she look like a supermodel
Aye the crib look like magic, full of empty henny bottles
Man getting hoes wasn't hard, this ain't f*cking spin the bottle
Man, I'm pour & roll and still a black-out, wake up, flip a model
She put two hands on the wheel, she feel like she Danica

On the high, way to hell, bae, I might just anna ya
I gotta stash out for that money, I keep hundreds, banded up
And still a punch down on them niggas that I knew weren't man enough
You better understand what the f*ck wrong, man

Oh, God, oh, my motherf*ckin' God
You ever been one of them niggas
Oh, God, oh, my motherf*ckin' God
You ever been one of them niggas

You ain't, you ain't talk about
Oh, God, oh, my motherf*ckin' God
Oh, God, oh, my motherf*ckin' God