Eightball & MJG - Forever lyrics

Ooh la la, Bangladesh Heyyy See a n***a like me gonna get money till I get rich Ride with a couple hundred G's in a biscuit Stay down for whatever forever hustle with my mystic hoes And soon you gonna see just how crunk this sh** be once we get rich 'Til then it's back to hustlin' with my misfits Deep, on a creep, fifty songs tucked under the prone Fifty songs tucked under the prone I keep a big old n***a beater heater It's in the trunk of my four-door and my two seater I'm make them say skeeter skeeter Keep up and grab the ball back just like I'm Derek Jeter I know you want to f** my hoe but you too scared to meet her See you ain't got enough bread to even start to treat her The way a pimp did, and in the bed I'm even sweeter I hustle, I got more Franklins in me than Aretha If I had Oprah Winfrey, I would marry her and keep her I spit as much knowlege as preachers and teachers Just as long as the message reach us we all fill up the bleachers I'm the M J G, I get in yo' sh** I ain't trying to run yo' clique, that be your friend so quick Come on, where my money, let me hit the stage f** them long interviews, just give us the front page Black G apostrophe S us, forever bust Them lyrics that make the people say that he got nuts See a n***a like me gonna get money till I get rich Ride with a couple hundred G's in a biscuit Stay down for whatever forever hustle with my mystic hoes And soon you gonna see just how crunk this sh** be once we get rich 'Til then it's back to hustlin' with my misfits Deep, on a creep, fifty songs tucked under the prone Fifty songs tucked under the prone Yeah man Sticky weed kickin' in, big Ball steppin' in Straight flying when I hustle, thats how I represent Bounce, if you feelin' what I'm spitting up in your ear hole I been rocking mics since I was 17 years old Smoking up, drinking up, kicking dust, and f**ing up Everybody want a piece and we ain't got enough for us Yeah, I touched a brick or two, pounds I done smoked a few Got my bread and didn't do what the f** I was supposed to do Money blinds players, turns them into evil spirits n***az die trying to live out these old rap lyrics I try to give it to them just how it come to me Real and unedited, not like it be on TV Be myself and don't be what those haters want me to be Take the good the bad hit my knees set me free Make the bad good, put that on my leather and wood Cinderella with my fellas deep off in the hood n***a See a n***a like me gonna get money till I get rich Ride with a couple hundred G's in a biscuit Stay down for whatever forever hustle with my mystic hoes And soon you gonna see just how crunk this sh** be once we get rich 'Til then it's back to hustlin with my misfits Deep, on a creep, fifty songs tucked under the prone Fifty songs tucked under the prone You need to stop sticking your hand out and trying to fold it Turn around the broom handle and trying to hold it It's plenty dirt to be swept, and leaves to be raked Now you need to leave from my face, take heed to mistake That you just made, thinking a player could get played Thinking that a rapper could get wrapped and phone tapped My whole life I learned the hard way to spot liars And it seems like it's usually the ones thats right by ya Fire Jumping up out the tip with pistols sittin' up f** me? Watch my gun skeet like it's bussing nuts 'Cept when it hit your cheek it burn then it split your cheek Then come out the back of your head, now your just a memory Graphic how I got it illustrated, rated triple X n***az want to be the king, I don't give a f** who's best Just watch your mouth, talkin' down in the south I'm gonna let my nuts hang and start punching clowns out See a n***a like me gonna get money till I get rich Ride with a couple hundred G's in a biscuit Stay down for whatever forever hustle with my mystic hoes And soon you gonna see just how crunk this sh** be once we get rich 'Til then it's back to hustlin' with my misfits Deep, on a creep, fifty songs tucked under the prone Fifty songs tucked under the prone