Boy Would You (feat. H-Gee & G-Rock)

Man these fake as **** out here always perpin', G, Man

We had to make a song strictly for these fake ass ****, like

Detroit Remix

Booooy, would y'all?

All these rappers rapping 'bout how they got that work

How the fuck you **** working when you always at work?

Boy, would y'all? I ball like them cats at Rucker

The streets is hot, eat, I'm a livin' legend muh-fucka

From that Dirty, Dirty Glizzy, ask about G-Rizzy

Twerkin', workin', never perpin', weighin' up on them scizzies

Young ****, I got workers breakin' down my bag

It ain't hard to pop a **** and break down that mag'

Toss it, we bosses, I got boats full of guns

Got a Ox' connect, like that **** Tommy Bunz

Tons of whatever, leads to tons of cheddar

The game I'm ahead of

Holla when you can find a thousand or better

Boy

Boss up and get this money

Would you

Boss up and get this money

Boy

Boss up and get this money

Get this money

Would you

Get this money

****

Boy

Boss up and get this money

Would you

Boss up and get this money

Boy

Boss up and get this money

Get this money

Get this money

They was like "boy, would you do a remix?"

A song to put on and get blowed with a freak bitch

My phone won't stop ringin', jewels won't stop gleamin'

Clock Gs, spark trees to of drop Vs

Bitch, better boss up and get this money

The clique coppin' chinchillas, but still got old school minks

And when a spot get hot, we set up shop in another hood

Come up with the lowest ticket, so it's all good

Whether East or West, got the Street Lord lovin'

Put a slug in a thug if he do too much muggin'

I'm rich, I got that thang on me when we clubbin'

Plus I'm 50 deep, get yo' ass stomped with a hunnid feet (****)

Dirty Glove, STL, we run the streets, bitch

Boss up and get this money

I fucks with Icewood, I put the mix in his tapes

Then it's back to the kitchen, gotta mix me a cake

Catch me off in Hotlanta with the Michigan plates

Pushin' keys like pianos, on a mission for pape'

We get dough 'round here, all my **** is straight

O just pulled up in that "quarter to 8"

You **** still countin' bags, we hit the border for weight

Plus, I heard y'all slung half on a quarter of cake

Boy, would they please boss up?

These **** is mustard, man, they need to catch up

Boy

Boss up and get this money

Would you

Boss up and get this money

Boy

Boss up and get this money

Get this money

Would you

Get this money

****

Boy

Boss up and get this money

Would you

Boss up and get this money

Boy

Boss up and get this money

Get this money

Get this money

Yo' fake ass got a minute phone, never got no minutes

Claim you got a spot, but never got no work up in it

Boy, those ain't Sprewells, how yo' rims still spinnin'?

****, you ain't a Street Lord, how yo team still winnin'? (You ain't know?)

It's sinnin' 'round here if yo' bank ain't right

Dank ain't light

Doin' my dance while I'm drunk in a hype

I'm in the fight froze

While sportin' platinum

We rose gold

We both pros at pimpin'

And bossin' up on these hoes

I'm bossin' up for real, a half mill' on the crib

It's a beautiful thang, you should see how I live

Boy, I need the Bent' with the rims and tent

Woodgrain steering wheel to match the seats and the vents

We 'bout dollars

Make sense don't it?

Coupes with the 6 on it

Rugers with the inf' on it

We'll blaze you if you run up on us

It's Mr. Lee Iacocca

And I'm the mayor of the Mitten

Y'all **** ain't bossin' up, y'all bullshittin' (Bitch)

Boy

Boss up and get this money

Would you

Boss up and get this money

Boy

Boss up and get this money

Get this money

Would you

Get this money

****

Boy

Boss up and get this money

Would you

Boss up and get this money

Boy

Boss up and get this money

Get this money

Get this money

****