Burnin Up - Young Jeezy, Slick Pulla

Give me the whole bag

I ain’t trippin' on a push

In a world of street niggas

Got more money than George Bush

So nigga I understand 'em

I ain’t never seen the leader of our nation in a Phantom

That’s why I spit that real shit, real niggas can ride to

G’s and the street niggas like to get high to

Spent a grip round my neck, nigga just because

So in the words of Kink B, nigga, stall my balls

Got that crazy cash

That insane money

Fall off in Magic City, make it rain money

Count all night, co-caine money

That do whatcha gotta do, I ain’t ashamed money

You burnin' up, daddy

And I ain’t never gone stop

Gotta a hunnit thou- sittin in the parkin' lot

I paid hella dues

That’s why that bitch sittin' on some chrome tennis shoes

And it’s a show stopper

Cuz we shop at 404, not Foot Locker

And yeah nigga, that’s real

Now was ya man doin' that before his deal?

You burnin' up daddy, ya too hot

Them other niggas wanna get what ya got

You burnin' up daddy, ya too hot

Them other niggas wanna get what ya got

You like this daddy, you like that?

(Now break it down for me)

You like this daddy, you like that?

(Now break it down for me)

You like this daddy, you like that?

(Now break it down for me)

You like this daddy, you like that?

(Now break it down for me)

Got million dollar plans, but I ain’t Ted DiBiase

Sneeze on ya with the snub nose to get ya off me

We make bread like a mint, nigga

United Streets Dopeboys in this bitch, nigga

We pull broads off the benches, turn 'em to some starters

We pop choppers that’ll spray ya patna like Binaca

We big talkers cuz we live it, this is more than rappin'

My mack furs got me sittin like a carriage wagon

So when we come through, clean the slate

G’d up, my feet clickin' with my Bathing Apes

And we can get this shit crackin'

Mob through the smoke chokin' 'thrax nigga, What’s Hatnin?

Raw the truth, Dwyane Wade of the street nigga

Florida Marlin, but I stay packin' Heat nigga

And the man mouth glow like a bottle of Cris'

Lemme hear ya, shawty know he got a hell of a wrist

Came through, Chevy lookin' like a Big Wheel

Banana guts, sittin' high up on them big wheels

And the trunk sound like the band at FAMU

I’m lookin' down on them clowns on them 22s

Shawty rock game sorta like I’m Barney Rubble

So many colors in my charm, look like Fruity Pebbles

Respect the shield, USDA, yeah we came thru

We gettin' money while you niggas ain’t countin' clues