Stick Out Ya Wrist Testo
Testo Stick Out Ya Wrist
[Nelly]Uh, uh-ohUh, uh uh uh, ay uh uhUh uh uh, c-mon[Chorus]Hey MisterStick out ya wrist, how many in thisStick out ya chest, are those baguettesI need to see how deep them pockets getLet me see if all that shit you talkin really legit[Verse 1]15 miles an hour, maybe soYou can make it straight from your seat to your front doorYou can get a glimpse of the one that they call mo'Mr. low-pro, fans peepin like der he goTwo lane now, put yo bite on meY'all done waited too long, I got a tax IDRight ID, proper registration never thought I'd seeFull coverage on my feetHold up, slow it down and let me think about itFroze up, erraything that you can see around meMy neck, wrist, arm, the whole nineI done took you best shot, now dirty you hold mineGot cats goin to jail, tryin to do what I doI got cats goin through hell, when the thang come through2-0-2, light grey blueStiched in the carpet, you know who-ooh[Chorus - Girl][Nelly]Ok, now let me see ya do it babyDon't be afraid go nowDon't be ashamed of how ya do it babyJust go ahead and make yo mama proud[Verse 2]Jack Frost, fuck it! what is costWho the boss, flossin is applesauceDirty 3rd grade, bought milk on thursdayNow I buy Escalades on birthdaysLex and Merced eez on deezE's off these, n-u-t'sI cough and sneeze, for frost bit sleevesIt's not just me, but really my familyYou want the run down, keep it poppin to sun downDirty come now, I'm a show you who run the townYour baby daddy is most hated, can't listen to my songWhen he at home, irrated when the video onI'm makin ones with them niggas see my ass in the clubPuffin the bud, and spendin a hundred for every dubWhat he got in his hand, I'm at it againBut I really can't stand, a lunatic plan - work it[Chorus][Nelly]Ok, now let me see ya do it babyDon't be afraid go nowDon't be ashamed of how ya do it babyJust go ahead and make yo mama proud[Verse 3]You can call me what you want, but call me a come upBefore you run up, make sure your funds up (why)I'm gonna buy some shit out of herr you ain't never seenBut probly wrist bands, mo denim starched jeansDiablo boots with the posher stringI'll take a cream-a-team shirt with the bentley sleevesFour-door swoosh, made by nikeDrop-top jumpan suit by mike eGot to like my playa, I'm in it for the doughI'm in it for show, matter fact I'm in it to blowWhen I wake up in the mornin, I'll be in it some moGarunteed anytime, dial 3-1-4Do any escargo, gotta S car the go0 to 60 dirty in four point 0Second ranking niggas every where dat I goI got the same, gotta have it, gotta have it for show[Chorus-x2][Nelly-x2]Ok, now let me see ya do it babyDon't be afraid go nowDon't be ashamed of how ya do it babyJust go ahead and make yo mama proud
HAYNES, CORNELL / EPPERSON, JASON
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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