C-Bo - Paper Made lyrics

[C-Bo] My whole crew is platinum Quick to throw it down with Magnums We ain't duckin' when the guns start blastin' What's happenin' West Coast rollin', Benjamins foldin' n***a bank accounts holdin', more loot than the j**s And I just stepped fresh up out some county blues Had me all on the news, cuz I'm gettin' my paper And my goal life now is livin' it major Coppin' Crystal, Champagne I'm in the 'Natti with the blow brains Leavin' my mansion up in Spokane The dope Game, was lovely Out with the flip rollos and drop Benzes when they clucked me Now the haters wanna mug me, cuz I'm AMG kid candy on some dub leech But f** them tricks cuz they haters They stick out like short thumbs around Playaz [Chorus x2] All I wanna do is get my paper straight Roll up highways sideways out the gates Luxury livin' baddest women and I'm straight Back up with the flames b*tch I'm Paper Made [C-Bo] I still scream "f** the World" _Til My Casket Drop_ I give a f** about parole and these ba*tard cops He could see me on TV coat with two glocks and a P Cuz some b**h n***a snitched on me down in Cincinnati I bet the b**h thought he had me Ain't that a b**h how n***az trip That n***a must have been smokin' the cavi I won't rest until my 'Natti n***az get him Run up in him hit him with a blade up of in his kidney And leave him face down, real n***az don't play around Paralyze that motherf**er from the waste down Cuz he's a b**h turned snitch on the next n***a On sight I'm takin' his life with the Tec trigga And give a f** about his kid, cuz he didn't give a f** about mine When I was servin' my bid I knew he was a flunky, punk n***a dressed like a junkie Runnin' around with a pound of bunk weed [Chorus x2] [C-Bo] See I'm all about the cash fool Blast to get a mill and I keep it real fool I owe court and the streets, f** a deal Wanna see me cuffed and stuck in the back seat of a cop car When I got j**els and pull more strings on a good tar/guitar than a rock star Cop car by the UB wanna do me down like Doobie Straight haters is what you fools be Hangin' on my balls like newbies You do three's dumped outta trees is how we do these Enemies when we WC 'em down like my crew be Pack heaters nonetheless and now better leave his Bulletproof vest down in the Beemer Hit 'em up we lead 'em then streetsweap 'em We don't need 'em That n***a's a b**h like Ru Paul Whipped his with his a** you'll be sold like blue balls We some murderers, haven't ya heard of the straight k**a All black, the realest on the map, mission to get the millas Y'all best off feel me, a motherf**in' real G In this sh** Paper Made til they k** me k** me [Chorus x2]