Kruzin

Original

You already know the voice. It's the Hollaback Kid, AKA your neighborhood hero,

AKA we cruisin'. J-Mo, I like this joint. We cruisin'!

You hear me on the radio, ninety-seven nine.

You see me on your TV, CW the underground eye-opener. Free my nigga C-Ham.

This is Crooked South Radio's -finest. D-Town stay down. -Only thing on my mind, get dough.

When I get a little time, get more. Ain't nobody on my line, shit slow.

So my hand on the nine 'cause my cotton keep dough. Every day I'm just tryna get my cake up.

So it's money on my mind when I wake up. Ain't stunting, I'ma grind 'til my weight up.

I'ma put it on the line every day, bruh. Cruising, turnt up.

I'm cruising, turnt up. I'm cruising, turnt up.

Only thing on my mind, get dough. When I get a little time, get more.

Ain't nobody on the line, shit slow. So my hand on the nine 'cause my cotton keep dough.

Every day I'm just tryna get my cake up. So it's money on my mind when I wake up.

Ain't stunting, I'ma grind 'til my weight up. I'ma put it on the line every day, bruh.

Cruising, turnt up. I'm cruising, turnt up. I'm cruising, turnt up.

I'm cruising, turnt up. You only live once, where the cream at?

So I roll up a blunt, let it scream back. Got the pump in the trunk if you seen that.

And the bullets blow 'em up like a beanbag. I'm on the block where them young gold tees at.

Levi's and the strap, where them keys at? Being vile to the trap, I beast that.

Got me passing out dimes like Steve Nash. Crash.

You ain't never told no lie. You don't really know those guys.

You ain't never sold no pie. You ain't never real, don't try. Only thing on my mind, get dough.

When I get a little time, get more. Ain't nobody on the line, shit slow.

So my hand on the nine 'cause my cotton keep dough. Every day I'm just tryna get my cake up.

So it's money on my mind when I wake up.

Ain't stunting, I'ma grind 'til my weight up. I'ma put it on the line every day, bruh. Cruising, turnt up.

I'm cruising, turnt up. I'm cruising, turnt up. I'm cruising, turnt up.

See pussy everywhere a nigga go. 'Cause a whole lotta niggas turn ho.

I pull the trigger 'til a nigga turn cold.

Got a swisher 'cause the chopper roll 'em up, burn slow. All my niggas in the hood, they know. I be too turnt up to lay low.

Young niggas, one word, they go. We shoot pistols, never play Halo.

Pussy niggas always wanna talk. Pepper spray up 'cause them haters throw salt, huh.

Nowadays everybody wanna leave. Nowadays don't nobody wanna walk, huh.

Only thing on my mind, get dough. When I get a little time, get more.

Ain't nobody on the line, shit slow. So my hand on the nine 'cause my cotton keep dough.

Every day I'm just tryna get my cake up. So it's money on my mind when I wake up.

Ain't stunting, I'ma grind 'til my weight up. I'ma put it on the line every day, bruh.

Cruising, turnt up. I'm cruising, turnt up. I'm cruising, turnt up. I'm cruising, turnt up.

Only thing on my mind, get dough. When I get a little time, get more.

Ain't nobody on my line, shit slow. So my hand on the nine 'cause my cotton keep dough.

Every day I'm just tryna get my cake up. Money on my mind when I wake up. Ain't stunting,

I'ma grind 'til my weight up. I'ma put it on the line every day, bruh.

You show these niggas the ropes. Leg drop and that dope, huh. Now it's hit back a bro.

Red dot on that scope, C. I. Really ain't got the time to be dropping by.

I'm not the guy.

Money stay on my mind, I'm dropping off, not stopping by.

Keep it moving. Finesse 'em, now we cruising. See, we ain't losing.

I'm stretching, getting to it, uh. Only thing on my mind, get dough.

When I get a little time, get more. Ain't nobody on the line, shit slow.

So my hand on the nine 'cause my cotton keep dough. Every day I'm just tryna get my cake up.

So it's money on my mind when I wake up. Ain't stunting, I'ma grind 'til my weight up.

I'ma put it on the line every day, bruh. Cruising, turnt up. I'm cruising, turnt up.

I'm cruising, turnt up.

I'm cruising, -turnt up. -It's Crooked South Radio's finest.

D-Town stay down. This that gutter music. Holla at your boy. Get the fuck out my way.