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    St. Lunatics / Lyrics

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    "Jang A Lang" Lyrics

    St. Lunatics feat. Pénélope

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    [(Chorus - Nelly) 2x]
    If you like big thangs, put your hands high as you can
    Get your shit man, make no difference from where you came, uh
    I ain't ballin out here, no, I ain't playin no games
    I got a new name for niggas with change, jang a lang

    Make way for the new breed bitch of this millennium
    Stack chips, keeps the pistol grip why? 'Cause I'm offendin 'em
    Rocks nothin but Cavada shit, I'm the baddest
    The ice from head to toe, with that plaid shit
    Mo' potent than I cut cocaine, through your vein
    Off the hook, take a look, I'm the chick, I can't be tamed
    One name like the highest breed, papi capéche?
    One drove home from Italy, is y'all feelin me?
    Be a mistress to none, but all good to some
    Let me break you off a little, show you how it's done
    Eyes trip for this goddess, gambino got your funds
    And some fish are coppin flights for me to Reno
    I see no other way for me to tell you how I feel
    You wanna stick and move now you're fuckin with the real deal
    Hold still, let this lady let loose
    Keep them chips comin nigga or your neck'll catch a nuece


    [Murphy Lee]
    Now y'all know me, I like an old school Ozzie Smith jersey
    Old school Jordans, head band that says "Murphy"
    Stone washed, baggy as hell, double XL, with the sleeve off
    On my way to drop a few G's off
    Ease off, doin thirty-five, smokin fire, makin a right
    I'm doin thirty now, riskin my life
    Both clients on my cell phone, typin on my two-way
    Rollin a blunt, still drivin, lookin at movies
    Young Dude be floatin the city like cab drivers
    Professional but still keep it real like Allen Iverson
    I'm liver than Jay, Dave and Kathy and Regis
    Been on more MTV shows than Butthead and Beavis
    Keep a stash with the gas money, fast money, me and Slo Down, huh
    We almost had to buy up the town
    It's like a movie, oohhweee, doobies in a jacuzzi
    Girls do what I say so I just tell 'em to do me


    Ay, you know where my change comes from, I spits fire
    You know what them girls look at dirty, my big tires
    My attire forty-two large denim, I sag in 'em
    Dress eyes and ride hot rides and Jags in 'em
    Let him talk his jazz, what's the tag gon' get 'em?
    While I hit him in clutch time, roll up his dutch time
    "No more herb", no such line, "uh oh" is my punch line
    I'm hungry like a hobo standin in lunch lines
    Crossed the gun line, boss, like Ray and Claud
    I know niggas that make they money then pay they broads
    I'm from the Lou, kinda new, I'm a make my laws
    When I pull up on the show lot, it be, it's like pause
    (Ay, where yo' Range at?)
    It's outside you wanna clean it?
    (Ay, where yo' name at?)
    It's in The Source, you ain't seen it?
    (Ay, where yo' change at?)
    You can't tell dirty, I'm sparklin?
    Split it, fill it up, wrap it and spark it

    This song was last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Cornell Haynes, Jason Epperson, Robert Ky Juan Cleveland, Tohri Murphy Lee Harper.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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