You Look

They shootin'. Aw, made you look. They, they shootin'. Aw, made you look. They, they, they shootin'. Aw, made you look. You a slave to a page in my rhyme Book. They shoot. They shoot. Aw, made you look. They shoot. They shoot. Let the music defuse all the tension. They shoot. Uh. They shoot. Aw, made you look. They shoot. Uh. They shoot. This ain't rappin', this is street hop. Now get up off your ass like your seat's Hot. My live niggas lit up the reefer. Trunk of the car, we got the street sweeper. Don't start nothin', won't be nothin'. No reason for your mans to panic. You don't wanna see no ambulances. Knock a Pepsi drink down in this cup. That's the way you get Timbaland'd up. Let the music defuse all the tension. Baller convention, free admission. Hustlers, dealers, and killers come move swift. Girls get close, you can feel where the tools Kept. All my disarmin' homies, parolees. Get money, leave the beef alone slowly. Get out my face, you people so phony. Phony, phony, phony, phony. They shootin'. Aw, made you look. They, they shootin'. Aw, made you look. They, they, they shootin'. Aw, made you look. You a slave to a page in my rhyme Book. They shoot. They shoot. Aw, made you look. They shoot. They shoot. Let the music defuse all the tension. They shoot. Uh. They shoot. Aw, made you look. They shoot. Uh. They Shoot.