[Intro]
For all you player haters out there
You've tuned into the sounds of the Southern Style DJs
(Yup)
You've tuned into the sounds of the Southern Style DJs
(Yup)
[Maceo Speaking]
Yea, nuh uh uh— uh uh. Ay, ay bruh, nuh uh, uh uh, ay—
Don't hit me dog, come see me. Yuh
I ain't tryin to talk, uh, I ain't tryin to talk, get me back. Yuh
f** wrong with that n***a
Hey, quit hittin' me, dog. Come see me
f** wrong with that n***a, man?
We don't do no talkin' over no phone
f** wrong with this n***a a**, man?
Hey. This n***a here trippin', dog
n***a tryna jam me up, man
Uh uh
Nuh uh
[Hook]
n***a don't hit me on the Nextel chirp
If you're tryna conversate about some motherf**in' work, nope
n***a don't hit me on the Nextel chirp
If you're tryna conversate about some motherf**in' work. Why?
Because they 'hind em, they 'hind 'em, they 'hind 'em
If them feds find em, they find 'em, they find 'em
Man, them feds 'hind 'em, they 'hind em, they 'hind 'em
If them feds find 'em, they find 'em, they find 'em
[Verse 1: Maceo]
n***a don't hit me on the Nextel chirp
The Sprint or the Metro 'bout some motherf**in' work
Look, I don't give a f** if your tryna buy some purp
See, the phone conversation ain't e'en tryna twerk
And don't text message me, hit me on my two-way
Talkin' bout look'chere man, I'm tryin to get a two-way
Oh yeah, what's the ticket goin' for a four-way?
I ain't tryin to have them feds runnin' in my doorway
See, I been doin' this sh** here for a long time
n***a did 25 years over phone time
That's a long time to be tryin' to ride out
Pickin up my phone like, “Meet me at the hideout”
Cause over the air ain't e'en tryna talk
I gives a damn about whatcha tryna spend or whatcha bought
Them folks ear hustlin' outside in a van
Tryna peep out who the motherf**in' man
[Hook]
[Verse 2: Fats]
You ain't gotta chirp me talking 'bout some c**aine
Especially referring about some motherf**in' chump change
Dog, what's your problem? You talk like you wired
What you tryin' to do? Send a n***a to the fryer?
Don't try to get me jammed up 'cause you know they listening
(Well let me cop a ounce)
Who is this? Dog, you trippin'
(Well let me cop a brick)
No, dog, talk business
Never would I slip up and make the wrong decision
End up like Irv Gotti
Conversation they got it
'Cause of a dumb n***a chirpin' wanna talk about it
Naw, dog, don't do it
Ask Jamal Lewis
One slip over the phone
Time— you gon do it
They ain't showin no love. They got to ship him off
Less time if you motherf**in' pay 'em off
Well I ain't payin' sh**, dog. You gotta listen, homes
Take heed of what I'm sayin': don't chirp my phone!
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Maceo]
Don't get surprised when that letter in the mail
Indicted by them folks ‘cause they know what you sell
$800,000 bail. God damn, what the hell!
Now you cased up doin' pushups in a cell
Then I swear to God, dog, let them feds find ya
Talking on the radio man, they gon ride ya
Lost in the system, ducked off cause they 'hind ya
They be like, "Damn, where he at, I can't find him"
So you better listen to the codes of the street
You tryna jump in it not knowin' that it's deep
This concrete ocean sh** deeper than a sea
This ain't a swimming pool, oh, it's coming past your knees
You got it f**ed up, better play the game smart
n***a check the game the same since them PowerTel cards
[Hook]