Lirik Lagu Show Em What They Won - St. Lunatics F/ Nelly
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(Ali)Yeah, yeah, check, checkSee I ain't about playin, Leezy 'bout cash in advanceCash in on the casual, actual, factual planMakin a killin man, went from that to makin a livinRightous willin, the only thing supreme swimminAnd proceed, to not smoke weed around the seedIt's the new way, new life, peace true indeed, off T'sI dwell on off how y'all plan makin mo' money, so I had to buy a fly chainRan in this game, dirt broke, now it's MTV with Kurt Lod'With the Q-four-feezy, be hurtin folksKeep the bird toast, black handle, horoscope hood scandleYou the type of niggas puffin in shirts, socks and sandalsKeep the God in me, the Hova Ja knew Allah in meBall wit' me, don't tell 'em who saw when 'bout to squall wit' meFall wit' me, this pure mic dope I'm sellinIt's the man with mellow rap, felon, constantly yellin "yo ma!"
(Nelly)Uh, uh, uh, uhWhat's it like bein Nelly, ay, let me break it downIt's like a shootout and you the only nigga wit' roundsIt's like a weed drought and you the only nigga wit' poundsIt's like a Freaknik and you got the only rubbers in townI'm like a shoe-in, for the poster boy, the thug of the yearGQ style ma', let me put a bug in your err (ear)Go tell ya man, he take a step, there went a slug in his err (ear)Have 'em askin (yo, how the hell he get a gun up in here?)(That's gotta be illegal, Bob!)I can bring them chrome things for that drastic shitMetal detectors, no problem, got that plastic shitWitnessess, "I ain't seen 'em, they had masks and shit""Whoever it was, was in a rush 'cause they was fast and quick"Oh, I'm just a playa, mo', these ain't my rulesPeep game, I'm wearin Jordans, summer these my shoesI'm like the heir to the throneMe and my niggas fastbreak through your home, get ya coach on the phoneTell 'em "go'on"
(Chorus)Show 'em what they won, a short stay at the hotel, BobShow 'em what they won, Alize, Mo', Crissy or ale, BobShow 'em what they won, Murphy Lee, Key or Nell, BobShow 'em what they won, what, show 'em what they won, whoShow 'em what they won, niggas talkin shit get served, BobShow 'em what they won, two to the head, left on the curb, BobShow 'em what they won, leavin they mama's feelins hurt, BobShow 'em what they won, what, show 'em what they won, whoShow 'em what they won
(Kyjuan)Ay yo, Bob, they want Keyjuan, the one who gets the job doneKeep huns screamin "Keyjuan-na-na"On the block I Rule like Ja, in the sun like WaMe and mine at the mall spendin grands like Cool BobSee I'm a Ruger shooter, don't make me have to do yaBoo-ya, you see what Lunatics'll do to yaTip-??? pursuer, get 'er in a room and do 'erFirst cat out the Lou that you knew thatWore a lime-green headband, matchin leather pantsVokal t-shirt with some sparklin wristbandsThis man, he keeps it real sweetWith somethin sweeter than sweet, puffin on Swisher SweetsI'm unique like a blue cardinal bird without the beakI'm deep, like bucket seats when the 'tics hit the streetsPick door number three if your price is rightI'll pull a DJ Quik "tonite is the night"
(Murphy Lee)Hold on, so I can tell 'em who I is, a young school boy with one kidI think I'm five-eight, but yo, maybe I'm five-sixWith my boots off, I prefer my booties in boots offYou get in my bed, you better take pants, shoes offNow, and not right now but right now!And I ain't backin down, she can get up and bounceThe Young Dude, quick to roll up an ounce and head southDon't even have drive, I can sit on the couchAnd wrap somethin, and put on a beat and rap somethinThey call me Mr. get all mad and smack somethinI'm wild dude, you could probably find me on side twoIf not I'm a holla like Ja Rule, get a dollar from my booAnd go and by a juice or somethinA virgin rapper, I ain't gettin loose for nothinMoney earnin rapper, I ain't got no boots for nothinSo I'm servin rappers, I be cookin when I'm comin
(Chorus) 2x
(Nelly)Uh, uh, uh, uhWhat's it like bein Nelly, ay, let me break it downIt's like a shootout and you the only nigga wit' roundsIt's like a weed drought and you the only nigga wit' poundsIt's like a Freaknik and you got the only rubbers in townI'm like a shoe-in, for the poster boy, the thug of the yearGQ style ma', let me put a bug in your err (ear)Go tell ya man, he take a step, there went a slug in his err (ear)Have 'em askin (yo, how the hell he get a gun up in here?)(That's gotta be illegal, Bob!)I can bring them chrome things for that drastic shitMetal detectors, no problem, got that plastic shitWitnessess, "I ain't seen 'em, they had masks and shit""Whoever it was, was in a rush 'cause they was fast and quick"Oh, I'm just a playa, mo', these ain't my rulesPeep game, I'm wearin Jordans, summer these my shoesI'm like the heir to the throneMe and my niggas fastbreak through your home, get ya coach on the phoneTell 'em "go'on"
(Chorus)Show 'em what they won, a short stay at the hotel, BobShow 'em what they won, Alize, Mo', Crissy or ale, BobShow 'em what they won, Murphy Lee, Key or Nell, BobShow 'em what they won, what, show 'em what they won, whoShow 'em what they won, niggas talkin shit get served, BobShow 'em what they won, two to the head, left on the curb, BobShow 'em what they won, leavin they mama's feelins hurt, BobShow 'em what they won, what, show 'em what they won, whoShow 'em what they won
(Kyjuan)Ay yo, Bob, they want Keyjuan, the one who gets the job doneKeep huns screamin "Keyjuan-na-na"On the block I Rule like Ja, in the sun like WaMe and mine at the mall spendin grands like Cool BobSee I'm a Ruger shooter, don't make me have to do yaBoo-ya, you see what Lunatics'll do to yaTip-??? pursuer, get 'er in a room and do 'erFirst cat out the Lou that you knew thatWore a lime-green headband, matchin leather pantsVokal t-shirt with some sparklin wristbandsThis man, he keeps it real sweetWith somethin sweeter than sweet, puffin on Swisher SweetsI'm unique like a blue cardinal bird without the beakI'm deep, like bucket seats when the 'tics hit the streetsPick door number three if your price is rightI'll pull a DJ Quik "tonite is the night"
(Murphy Lee)Hold on, so I can tell 'em who I is, a young school boy with one kidI think I'm five-eight, but yo, maybe I'm five-sixWith my boots off, I prefer my booties in boots offYou get in my bed, you better take pants, shoes offNow, and not right now but right now!And I ain't backin down, she can get up and bounceThe Young Dude, quick to roll up an ounce and head southDon't even have drive, I can sit on the couchAnd wrap somethin, and put on a beat and rap somethinThey call me Mr. get all mad and smack somethinI'm wild dude, you could probably find me on side twoIf not I'm a holla like Ja Rule, get a dollar from my booAnd go and by a juice or somethinA virgin rapper, I ain't gettin loose for nothinMoney earnin rapper, I ain't got no boots for nothinSo I'm servin rappers, I be cookin when I'm comin
(Chorus) 2x
