1997 - Buddynice

Well, I've made so many new friends With open arms, they let me in They say they'll be with me 'til the end They say they'll stick through thick and thin And it's gonna happen In 1997 The crowd you like is dangerous I heard they're just no good I'd rather have you staying at home now Like a good boy should I heard they can't be trusted I heard they all wear white I'd rather have you prove me wrong Than go and prove me right Mama, please don't make it harder Well, it's tough to love another And it's hard to find a friend Somebody else who has no others Somebody else who understands Then it happened In 1997 The crowd you like is dangerous I heard they're just no good I'd rather have you staying at home now Like a good boy should I heard they can't be trusted I heard they all wear white I'd rather have you prove me wrong Than go and prove me right Mama, please don't make it harder Well, I've made so many new friends They say they'll be with me 'til the end And it's gonna happen In 1997

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six Five, four, three, two, one, yay! Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more, more Kiss the shoulder, hop in the Corolla These bitches talkin' shit like the bottom of porta-potties Bright ass yellow teeth, you a shit talker, gossip Legs movin' like a salsa dancer Drunk, fallin' out ya car like a flaccid dick Aww, man, god damn, what the fuck wrong with ya? Say it to my face, pussy ass boy Need a Altoid for your hot breath, life a hot mess Pop your biceps, cue the roid rage I think I got like five more albums inside my mind This that shit, that do or die, make your grandmama cry Keep some baggy jeans on me, keep a Billie Jean on me Got that New Orleans on me, smellin' like a queen to ya Cu–cu–cucumber lemonade, I need somethin' fresh today Barber make the texture fade, actin' out like it's charades Strawberry sweater fleece, baby, give me somethin' sweet We don't gotta be discreet, moonwalkin' between the seats Hit on that beat and then stop (Ahh!) Hop on that booty like who the hell cutie Like I don't know cootie, my momma ain't raise no bitch ass Ain't no kiss ass, ain't no– Get the fuck out of my face now Get the fuck out of my way now You are so far off my level, stop! In the barber shop with my niggas, ay I ain't never soft for my nigga, ay I ain't never copy no nigga, ay So quit talkin', bitch nigga, (Quit yo' talkin', bitch) ay Ay, I wanna buy a Jeep, ay, that's my energy Trilogy, that's history, Southside, baby, rest in peace! Uh, lordy, lordy, testify, yeah Got explosives in my mind, yeah Search for feelin's I can't find, yeah I'm a ghost because I grind, yeah Made a deal with Father Time, yeah Told me "Find a way to shine", yeah I can make you live forever All you gotta do is dance until you die, yeah Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more, more Ten, nine, eight, seven, six Five, four, three, two, one, yay!