D'angelo - What A Year lyrics

[Verse: Dave East] (East side, wo!) I like my women to be pure, no Juicy Couture Outfits down south, trips for raw i'm tryna get more I hid the pistol In the store right under the chips My outfit come with a grip, in love with her lips I just to hide the work in her mother crib Things changes now I don't even know where her mother live She don't call me Dave East, address me by my government Told me pay my taxes before you owe the government Complexion mocha, inner section with smokers Face mean I bet you n***a never approach her Told the homie I had to k** it for the culture I come to compliment not insult ya, I can coach ya Give you the play it's hard to give you a day Couple hours blowing sour you know I'm not finna stay Them other n***as is cowards, I promise they in the way Couple dollars let's pick us a [?] so we can play Now we gettin' ma**ages, forgings and them garages I've been having ménages, princess cuts is flawless Just to sit the truck you got to be gorgeous You bad without speakin' ma you ain't got to be talkin' She's like a [] leaking all on my seats We get tired of the city our weekends be on the beach We creepin' in and out the sheets, she was in and out the jep I turn women out to freaks, I was in her mouth this week I've got a million mouths to feed, that's why i'm in and out these streets A hundred b**hes on my line, but i'm just in and out these beats Brought the hammer everywhere 'cause we was in and out beef My little L.A. b**h had me eating In 'n Out for weeks First cla** to LaGuardia I'm right back to New York time A lot of n***as renting their j**elry, but I bought mine Mind the of trap, you can't double back if you cross lines Them forty fives jam so this time I only bought nines n***as only respect homicide and chalk lines Talking 'bout the coupe, I'm tryna Porsche mine I'm tryna hurt the strip, them little baggies just to hurt the tip Crack smoke my clothes before I even learned to whip No handouts I don't wan't it if I ain't earnin' it Weed and pills I was servin' it, jumpin' out of suburban All ice like George Gervin, on flights I lost service Your type be all nervous, the Maybach got orange curtains And I'm just on my Birking, what you hearing in these verses the same n***a in person Cuzzo doing the stretch, he caught 8 of off 'caine purchase n***as claim they the hottest they music I ain't heard it Guess it ain't worth it That sh** you be doing just ain't working I got a different lawyer they came with the same verdict And I can get you broad day light, like Wayne Perry Potato on the witnesses saying that they ain't heard it [Speaking] Only the real recognize what I'm doing. From the bottom, nowhere else but up, million dollar deal, did that. Need millions for all my n***as, gang. f** happened to D'Angelo this that sh**, East Side, uh! New year, new money, new diamonds, no new n***as! hahah