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    Bad Azz / Lyrics

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    "How We Get Down" Lyrics

    Bad Azz

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    Purple, yeah, it's Dogghouse why y'all

    [Bad Azz: x2]
    See me, I be about my dollars
    In my own world, wit my own girls popping collars
    I'ma G, we, be up for the Impalas
    Wit the juice, getting loose on why y'all, I make ya holla

    [Bad Azz]
    I make ya feel like ya drunk, you on a gallon of strong gin
    What's happening, it's a party cracking up in my play pen
    The play pen party is popping, it's strait line up
    It's an after Aftermath party and my bed's smelly bottom
    Oh you gone, I see real weird 'til it's over
    When we leave, we goin' peel out in the limo wit the chauffeur
    Wit the doja, gat, Congnac and some soda, (c'mon, see man)

    Who make 'em chat? Angels rule the world
    Who make these niggas want to leave their girl? (Kola, Kola!)
    Who got the turk to the dirt? Throwing nose and dope
    Got niggas cumming from the lyrics I quar (Kola, Kola!)
    Dogghouse checking niggas with the switch in their walk
    Niggas would talk, slept wit my, leave 'em in chalk
    Keep it pimping (truly!) Got 'em screaming (ooh wee!)
    Angels 'with B-A-D A-Z-Z!

    [Chorus: LaToya Williams]
    (oh, oh, oh, oh) How we get down
    (oh oh, oh, oh) This is how we get down
    (oh, oh, oh, oh) How we get down
    (oh oh, oh, oh) This is how we get down

    [Bad Azz]
    Money talks, nigga bullshit, run a marathon
    Gotta have bread, every month, every cent, every blunt
    Every single bottle of 'gnac, you could shine
    It ain't no thing, show your paper stack (check it out)
    Money makes girls, take bitches, make niggas
    Take money by the motherfucking gun
    See I'ma gangsta from the East side, the L.B.C.
    I wouldn't do it if it wasn't no fun (c'mon)
    Oh you gone? I see it real weird 'til it's over
    Where you at? We still smoking and this is Conyiac

    It's only one way, Dogghouse is doing movies
    Fun stack to unlimited, riches with intentions
    Regulate every aspect of the game
    (Brain loose, sipping purple smoke)
    That got me and Angels choked out (no doubt)
    They formally stampeded like Kurk (have some party's)
    Step up wit quiet and I could get us
    Rep the 'boes, sticking clicks, sick dumbs never holla
    I be out, thugged out, then follow, make 'em swallow

    [Chorus: x2]

    [Bad Azz]
    Three, two, one, it's at the NFL like the thing just begun
    I'm fucked up, I can't believe I'm still looking at butts
    I can't quit, I'm off the hizzle with this kinda shit
    It's goin' be all away, done before we trying to split
    When it's this kinda party, we always act dope
    Now you all doped up and you think ya mad dope
    Gotcha homegirls talking to you, glasses of, damn
    I done, drank all my 'gnac and Cola, whats up Chan?

    [Big Chan]
    Know I, not tap, no hats, nothing but hand claps
    Slap the pistol cause my holsters snap, and dudes get snapped
    Time to act up, and I could definitely dig that
    We got's to get paid to snitches masses, my decision is made
    Why y'all bought, why y'all paid
    We be fiends, everywhere, the Angels are back
    Hold that, so let it go and put the bang-bang
    That's how we doing the damn thing (damn thing)

    [Chorus: x4]
    This song was submitted on October 18th, 2016.
    Thanks to Snap for the contribution to this song.
    Written by Calvin N Broadus, Chan N Gaines, Kevin Gilliam, Kola N Marion, Kim N Proby, Jamarr Antonio N Stamps, Latoya N Williams.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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