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Mojim Lyrics > Americas singers > T.I.( Clifford Joseph Harris Jr. ) > T.I. Vs. T.I.P > You Know What It Is

T.I.( Clifford Joseph Harris Jr. )



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T.I.( Clifford Joseph Harris Jr. )

You Know What It Is

Lyricist:Jerry Duplessis, Jean Guerschom, Clifford Joseph Harris, Wyclef Jean

Aye, boy, don't spill my drink, boy, pull it
Now listen, everybody report to the bloodclot dance floor
You love the beat, boy, you know what it is
Yo, T.I.P., talk to them, bloodclot

I'm a real nigga, homie, show six figga's on me
I got a pistol, you don't want it but you know what it is
Aye, I'm way flyer, my pay is way higher
If they ever mention sire, boy, you know what it is

About that drama, you don't want no problems
I love that llama but you know what it is
Aye, I get money, all I count is big money
Because all she get from me, boy, you know what it is

Yo, T.I.P., let them little rock boys know how you livin'

The wait is over, here we go again, I'm back in the plate
Gon' sell another couple mill and take it back to the A
Gon' take that other couple mill and put it back in the safe
Find cash for the crew up only back in the lake

I'm up in cruises two steppin' with the gat in the waist
T.I. ain't in the streets no more, that what they say
Don't even try it when you sayin', boy, you have to be great
You can trust to hit ya in ya face your peeps will have to replace
That's if you like it nigga and trust me it wont hurt me to take
A hundred thousand to them Haitians, you'll be murdered today

I'm a real nigga, homie, show six figga's on me
I got a pistol, you don't want it but you know what it is
Aye, I'm way flyer, my pay is way higher
If they ever mention sire, boy, you know what it is

About that drama, you don't want no problems
I love that llama but you know what it is
Aye, I get money, all I count is big money
Because all she get from me, boy, you know what it is

Yo, T.I.P, some boy wanna play our hit
Let 'em know who the king of the South is
Talk to them

Women sweatin' when they see me, I'm apparently hot
Had the album of the year, nigga, Grammy or not
Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com
Remember, all day I used to stand in the spot
With 2 revolvers in my pocket pitchin', handlin' rocks

Right now, judge tappin', there ain't a car I ain't got
I'm the number one customer at my own car lot
If you wanna know how much I makin' just imagine a lot
Even though I pro'lly gettin' more than you'd imagine I got
Listen close, I need to know if you understand me or not
If ya disrespectin' me you and your man will get shot

I'm a real nigga, homie, show six figga's on me
I got a pistol, you don't want it but you know what it is
Aye, I'm way flyer, my pay is way higher
If they ever mention sire, boy, you know what it is

About that drama, you don't want no problems
I love that llama but you know what it is
Aye, I get money, all I count is big money
Because all she get from me, boy, you know what it is

Went from the king of the south to the king of the states
Ridin' in a car you probably never seen in the states
No idea how much yay I can bring in the States
Hey, you could get a hundred of 'em for a million today

Frank Lucas ain't the only one who made a million a day
But it's the American gangster right here in ya face
And you don't wanna see P$C on the scene with AK
You think you running a private, that ain't even the case
And just because you get away, that don't mean its okay
You a dead man walking and I mean it, okay

I'm a real nigga, homie, show six figga's on me
I got a pistol, you don't want it but you know what it is
Aye, I'm way flyer, my pay is way higher
If they ever mention sire, boy, you know what it is

About that drama, you don't want no problems
I love that llama but you know what it is
Aye, I get money, all I count is big money
Because all she get from me, boy, you know what it is

Some of dem boys want to talk what dey have done
They guns sound like popcorn