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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Z-Ro
Performer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Z-Ro
Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Screwed Up Click for life
Z-Ro the crook of AKA, the king of the ghetto
But y'all can call me Rother Vandross
This year though, ya dig?
Anyway man, I'm just out here tryna shake the mother fucking pot
And pull a dollar out
You know what I'm talking about?
Everyday all day, heavy not small pay
****, what
[Verse 2]
Ha-ha, uh
I wake up early in the evening around 5:30 or 6:00
My Nextel beeping from all the calls I missed
Brushed my grill until it looks like what's around my wrist
Drop some kush in the cigarillo and then give it a twist
Pull out a black t-shirt, beige Dickie pants, black house shoes
Can't forget my can down there to give 'em the blues
Open up the safe and grab some paper
Call for up at Hempe's Sports Clips and let 'em know I need another taper
[Verse 3]
Call up one of the smokers to wash my ride
Just like at the car wash
But he gon' do it right outside
I don't kick it with fellas, I kick it with broads
Fellas act like females, so why not kick it for the woman from the stars
My mind marinated full of liquor
Remember me in the hoodoo with expired tags and sticker
But I'm on swingers today
And everything is blue over grey
Look out, Houston, Texas, Z-Ro is on his way
I'ma let the top down
[Verse 4]
I'ma act one two
I'ma act just like a **** do
I'ma act one two
I'ma act just like a **** do, ****
I'm gon' let the top down even though I'm on fours, I ain't swinging
Rather roll cruise control, let the cigarillo blow
Cell phone ringing, traffic light changing
[Verse 5]
And it's a sunny screwed up day outside
Might as well pull out the candy slab, it's time to ride
It go from candy blue to purple right before your eyes
Jackers think I'm slipping but I keep them pipes on my side
Grippin' wood grain
Homie if you love your life, don't run up on me man
You're damn right, I'm a legend in the game
It's Billy Cook, and that **** Joseph Wayne
Yeah, we accept checks and loose change
'Cause the ghetto is where we come from
The same place bougie bitches run from
Since the beginning I had a piss poor hand
But I turned it into a winner, y'all haters don't understand
Minimum wage **** now earning a hundred grand
I can pay my own way
Got my own money man
B-I-L-L-Y C-O-O-K
The foreign car now was in the dropper yesterday
[Verse 6]
I'ma act one two
I'ma act just like a **** do
I'ma act one two
I'ma act just like a **** do, ****
I'm gon' let the top down even though I'm on fours, I ain't swinging
Rather roll cruise control, let the cigarillo blow
Cell phone ringing, traffic light changing
[Verse 7]
'Cause like Big Hawk, my cup is full of something bubbling
And I'm on the boulevard acting ugly
But I'm not swinging in and out of my lane
Speaking of my trunk, and the Gorillas inside just making it bang
And if a jacker comes my way I load my AK
Don't think I won't spray
This'll be your last day
I work too damn hard for mine and 24/7 on the grind
All you gon' end up with is a hard time
From I-10, the Beltway 8, the 59 South
To purchase a sack of that lemon lime, and I'm out
About to roll to my homegirl house
Her man tripping
'Cause he think I got a stripping
But we just flipping
And ain't no club hopping
Even if the club popping
I'ma pass, never even take my foot off the gas
But I'll get into the studio to drop a couple a songs
When I'm finished, we gon' bounce and continue to roam
And let the top down
[Verse 8]
I'ma act one two
I'ma act just like a **** do
I'ma act one two
I'ma act just like a **** do, ****
I'm gonna let the top down even though I'm on fours, I ain't swinging
Rather roll cruise control, let the cigarillo blow
Cell phone ringing, traffic light changing
[Verse 9]
I'ma act one two
I'ma act just like a **** do
I'ma act one two
I'ma act just like a **** do
I'm gon' let the top down even though I'm on fours, I ain't swinging
Rather roll cruise control, let the cigarillo blow
Cell phone ringing, traffic light changing
Written by: Z-Ro