Mase - Stay Out Of My Way Lyrics
[intro]Hey yo, dogs, for real?Im yo man but you got the address upCuz now you got chicks talk what the *****What the *****, what the *****[mase]You know somebody swung on me & cut me?(come on come on come on)You know somebody pulled a gun on me or robbed me?(come on come on come on)Is they stoppin my money? (hell no)(come on come on come on)Then it aint no problem here(come on come on come on)Cmon I aint wit that man(yeah, what, what)Just throw my b back onYo, yo, yoYou know my mission aint completetill I hit the city with a 600 jeepHardest nigga from all out you wanna meetHash in the dash with heat under the seatChased kate 52 states straightBut still aint nothin sweetI took a year off to let the young niggas eatEverybody wit me want bucksWalk around platinum linked upWith money like brink trucksShit get too hot? puff, put the minks upCome back in the summertime like ***** it, its summertimeAll out tattoos over wife beatersGet mail branson, never buy reeferBentley five seater, its all for realFirst rapper to close down a mall with a milThe clothes, the hoes, the cars that flauntPlus the money so Im on nigga oneTalk to me1 - [total]If you dont ***** with meLike I dont ***** with youIt aint much for us to talk aboutCuz you dont ***** with me (yo, yo, yo, yo)And you know I dont ***** with youSo all I can say (uh uh)Is stay out my way[mase]Dont take much to wake up, taped up***** the district, I live in jacobHit a nigga, ***** nigga, kiss and made upSee me without puff, try to get your weight up, uhAint nuttin between you and meAnd on the real, nuttin you could do wit meI got cats thatll find you and leave youPull that hoodie over your headAnd put five in your ceasarDoubt me now and die a believerRun and catch bullets like a wide receiverWhen the wars on, put your gloves and your gores onTeflon hard hat nigga, put it all onBeef no more thats what other niggas forI got a fam that love to go to warLove to get locked up, love pickin the odds upLove not comin home, love to be boxed upIm from a town where kids could pop upLittle punks in garbage bags, body all chopped upIll come around your block knowin you got popped upArms are rocked up, bentley wit the top upUh, you dont stop, come onRepeat 1 while:What, what, whatYeah yeah yeah what what whatYou dont like me nigga? (what the *****? )You wanna fight me nigga? (huh? huh? )Stop frontin nigga (you frontin nigga)Uh[mase]Yo, one, two, three, fourEverybody on the floorYou see grams, imma see cratersBy the time you see land imma see acresDrop another cd just to see paperAnd before you see me youll see the makerAll I see is more chances, more advancesMore houses, no spouses, more beachesWild thugs around me and no leechinWhen they guns out played, therell be no reachinBallin in dirty south wit no creasesAnd all I see is more f-in iced out jesus piecesThe rock over sean john fleecesYou never love the money like we love itPay the chick sucka, and let her teeth touch itAll outBad boy foreverThe movementWhatRepeat 1Repeat 1
