Holdin' It Down (feat. A.G., Miss Jones & Stan Spit) Song Lyrics

Yea yeah, flamboyant entertainment, no doubt

Yo, y'all fellas like to stress them chicks
Impress them chicks, spend money to dress them chicks
I sex them chicks and send them home
Corleone is known to be stoned

When I bone, I'm rubbered up
In case that shit full blown
The other night around 8 p.m
Pockets crazy slim, jumped out the gray BM

Went to the ATM, took a thou' out
Then later on I had to wild out
In the club, knock some coward and his pal out
Then afterwards went to the restroom, pissed Cristal out

Now I'm thinkin', which chick number I could dial out
'Cause it's l, the Harlem pimp baby, for real
I got more dimes than that Sprint lady

And that's ill, playa haters be givin' me harsh looks
But I'm tryin' to sell records like Garth Brooks
So eff 'em all, when it's cold I throw the Skelly on
Illegal chips keep my Celly on
Mega-ice is what I'm heavy on

If it ain't Cristal Boo, I guess it's perignon
If the na-na's too tight, I throw some jelly on
Yo try to tax and watch the nine mill burst
I've been off the scene over three years

And cats is still thirst, to hear big l drop an ill verse
So all you unsigned cats that want to battle
Get a deal first, I sport the bulletproof, fitted hat
That attitude, you better get rid of that
Wherever you floss is where you gon' get it at, what?

I stay strapped, I go to sleep with my steel
Makin' figures while you broke cats keepin' it real