In Da Game - Mvp, Rollah & G.T.

Yo i needs dough you needs dough we needs dough so yo (x4) Verse one (mr cheeks) Put on my thinkin cap Dont know to rap about the niggas gettin outta state trap Livin dat yo whuts up black Well its my third day home and not a cent to my name No jobs they claim im back in the drug game I need some money in a hurry Im singin my baby boy troy he'll be two next february Im in the crib wit my man My nigga van dam An were thinkin of an outta state plan peep it My man rolla doughs flyin up on friday Hes buy'n a half an bouncin back on the highway Now friday comes moms is beefin cause im cursin She smells cheeb on me ima whole different person Well i guess im goin ta cheet She understood the chat Now call me when ya get there an tell me where you at All rite ma I checked out all my niggas then we jetted Wit fifty balls a peice brought a peice for unleaded Smokin blunts forty ouncin G and p bouncin This is how we do Wes the lost boyz crew Chorus We in the game the bitches the money the cars (x4) Verse two (mr cheeks) Dreams in the head we gonna blow 46 balls a peice an each got an o In the trunk punk We bouncin to jamaica queens funk An inside the blunt 21 skunk Were headed for the belly an were enterin the mouth Niggas in the hat black an yo we headed south Now that dont look rite But listen black we be aiight Smokin blunts by the boxes Ghetto champaigne is chill Stop back the first bit boys for gas an a meal Now everybodies lookin at the niggas from new york Field jackets on an they peep as we talk I say to pretty lou well look a rolla doughs hat I want one of them shits by the time i gets back We got the gas ate a meal on the road once again Taliqs on the blunt g an p's on the henn Chorus Verse three (mr cheeks) Now we reached the destination 1 oclock on the dot Went to check out the spot Its rite next to a lot We jumped out the car we got the whole town starin At the new york city plates an the tough shit we wearin I guess it all seems that we came to cause racket My niggas in the ack an each got a field jacket A week down the line we got shit on the ball Every single day we gettin fresh in the mall Troopin Plus we got the car wash movin We gettin our connects from a cuban named rubin Hangin outta state Po nine is a peasant Livin in the park but in the park it aint so present Chorus