Cassidy - 6 Minutes Lyrics
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6 Minutes
6 Minutes Lyrics |
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What Are The Lyrics For 6 Minutes By Cassidy?
Yeah, I go by the name of Cassidy the Hustler
And I brought two of my niggaz with me And we about to shut the industry down Aiyyo Wheezy let's get it poppin'! Hit me! Front that shit this the south side, got a fat dick on your mouth wide I've come to take outside, nah do it right here Hop out later owning on everybody's home that you fuckin' with Wheezy F baby, please say the baby Riding with your bitch got keys on the lady Triple gold these four tires on the whip Young Carter sliding out I'm flyer than the whip Yeah, higher than an angel, or hotter than the devil The pot or kettle, uh The metal let 'em burn like Ursha but worse, uh If there's any beef I come Ron like Mertz, uh Word up, eagle street I'm throwing my curve up We take your ice cream and turn you into sherbert I got flow I'm like "Sure" but, if it's about dough I'm like "Sure 'nuff" I'm from the bird bunch, Birdman Jr. you niggaz bird lunch I see your lips moving but I ain't heard much You see the wirst moving, it look like pure punch I hear the playa hating but I don't endorse such I got the Escalade, guts like the tour bus I got the styrofoam poured up with syrup And in the tires little package is gone Might I spend a good deal with these Firestones I spit like Myer's bones, born in chromers For the buyers chromosomes I got summers I got vicadens, valiums I ain't stopping Got pot and heroin, ex, oxycontin And that's how we rocking How can you hear that bop unless I'm be-bopping Yeah skip when you hear that click Cash money nigga I'm that shit Weezy Baby, ugh! That's what I'm talking about Now Fab, spit at these niggaz and let them know why they ain't fuckin' with you Your goddamn right I'm feeling myself A chauffeur no sir, I'm wheeling myself Looking for a chick chilling for self So I can show her the suicides and talk her into killing herself I'm having problems dealing with wealth But you wouldn't understand it, until you get a million yourself You niggaz must've got a deal for your health Your cd is frozen food, it just chills on the shelf I spend big, at any time I can start splurging The twin cigs open chests like a heart surgeon And I'm buttoned up, I'm just a blue collar crook But I keep a stack thick as few college books I got a new polished look And twenty dime bitches, to show y'all niggaz how my two dollars look The boy's got at least six digits on So the guns gotta be at least midget long The money, is like ten bridges long I throw bread around just to turn pigeons on I got some good smoke just for puffers The two grand twenty's make the hustlers suffer Plus it's fluffer, than a cotton ball I've gotten calls wanting me to put the pot in malls But nowadays you can't put it past 'em I got a Dan Marino arm, I'm bout to throw some bullets past 'em And the niggaz in the hood keep quoting my lines I don't jump ship I keep floating in mine Long as I keep toting I'm fine I'mma have these dick sucking niggaz deep-throating the nine I jumped in the English ship, Benzed whip It's Terminator 2 chrome the engines dip I'm reading scripts no, not the penmanship (no) The box-office shit (yeah), I box off this bitch (yeah) Jessica Alba, Kirsten Dunst And still make a mil' off the first of months These dudes be the first to front 'Til they family and friends is in limos, they in hearse in front I'm in the top position, I can make you a proposition I'm in the hard top waiting on the drop edition To hell with the patience I'mma send a nigga down under like Australia vacations Yeah it is what it is, my niggaz just killed y'all and I'mma close the casket I'm tryin not to let this industry get the best of me y'all I work hard in the game, the game's stressing me y'all All they do is complain what they expect from me y'all From the hood to Hollywood they respecting me y'all And even overseas they accepting me y'all All the ladies show me love, the thugs repping me y'all I get a lot of dirty money so respect me or fall But I'm saving all my checks, I'm investing 'em all They say, what goes up is gon' definitely fall Even the stars work success, it's my destiny y'all Look, I cook tracks I got the recipe y'all You can't name another cat that can mess with me y'all At the shows all the hoes be molesting me y'all I got broads crying trying to get next to me y'all I got broads craving begging to have sex with me y'all Screaming, "Cash you don't know how sexy you are!" And I'm happy I'm alive, God's blessing me y'all And all the problems that arrive is God testing me y'all So I pray everyday but I ain't praying too much Cause I be sinning everyday so I ain't praying enough And we all could be beat, and I ain't saying I'm tough But if it's beef I don't speak, I ain't saying "What's up" If it's beef when we meet then I'm spaying shit up Prraat prraat.I ain't saying too much and that's that Cause that cat you embracing with love Might clap that gat cause he got hate in his blood Keep your friends at a distance and your enemies close Cause the folks you call friends can envy the most Some cats'll hang themselves if you give 'em a rope Burn the bridge and don't give a boat, let 'em sink Sometimes you gotta give 'em some some time to let 'em think But sometimes you gotta give 'em the nine and let 'em stink You can't bring every horse to the pond and let 'em drink I'd rather keep my eyes wide open instead of blink As soon as your eyes shut, them niggaz will ride up And the guys that you trusted be getting you tied up And we all gotta die, but I ain't ready to leave That's why even if it's petty I'll be ready to squeeze But put a cheddar in cheese, guac-a-moola I pop the ruger, send that hot shit through ya! Like booya! That's the sound when the pound busting Ooh, ah, you'll be laying on the ground suffering Clowning's nothing to pull out and blast you I try to only resort to violence if I have to But man niggaz out here are playing fair So before the odds are even I'm leaving them laying there And I ain't even playing believe what I'm saying here Cause before this shit gets further your click gets murdered And found in a hole in the grass For trying to play that thug role I'll stomp a mud hole in your ass And this Cass, nigga I'm that sick Full Surface nigga I'm that shit, bitch! |
Who Wrote 6 Minutes By Cassidy?
Fran Brozena, Dwayne Carter, Chris Hanlon, Jerry Hludzik, John Jackson, John David Jackson, Bill Kelly, Barry Reese, Carl Siracuse
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