Z-ro - Doing Just Fine lyrics

They say success is the best revenge That's the reason I'm always on my grind I promise to God, I ain't got no paper to lend Ya'll motherf**ers must be out ya'll mind And I don't really give a f** if you be family or friend I ain't giving up one God damn dime I'm leaving all you b**hes behind I'm leaving all you b**hes behind, that's right Z-Ro the Crooked, King of the Ghetto, and the Mo City Don That's a hell of a man And he ain't trying to buy no wolf tickets either homie So ain't no use in selling em man You damn right a hell of a hustle ain't gon get you nothing but some hell of a grands No feeling like money in my hand Money over b**hes I know you understand, that's right [Hook:] I'm doing just fine, homie I don't need no help Especially when it comes to spending my wealth I'm doing just fine, I'm one deep because I love myself Envy and jealousy is bad for my health I'm doing just fine, without you in my life I don't need you in my life, I don't want you in my life All I want, is the cash All of ya'll can kiss my a** I'm still a gangsta, p**y n***az better stay up out my way Frown on my face I'm holding my H.K. Handling bidness digging ditches everyday hey Still a gangsta, p**y n***az better stay up out my way And I'm a be a real n***a til I'm old and grey And the whole world wanna know just what I've got to say S.U.C., until I D-I-E That's all I ever will be I'm a keep holding it down, and doing this damn thing for my town None of you b**hes ain't gotta come around And it's gon be like that till I'm in the ground that's right [Hook] I use to have a love jones for this chick named Lisa Now my love jones is for the Mastercard or the Visa Ain't no love in my heart, homie it's col' like Keisha Nine ounces in the door panel, a couple of mo' in the speaker I get a ticket down in Texas, ain't gon give em a reason To put me in jail it's even, and gone a couple of seasons I'm trying to stack my paper taller than a great dane Joseph Wayne McVey ain't saving no b**hes, cause he ain't got a cape mayn b**h, you ain't smoking my weed for free And don't offer me none of your raggedy booty, that ain't nothing to me And while ya'll getting-getting some head, I'm getting-getting some bread And while ya'll fellas relaxing, I'll be getting-getting ahead Screwed Up Click until I die Mayn I'm so high, I don't think I can drive That's why I'm riding shotgun, with my shotgun One n***a disrepect, and get your whole block done, done [Hook] [Background of hook - talking:] Ha-ha, King of the Ghetto Entertainment (Yeah, not on me) Rap-A-Lot Records in this b**h (In my life), what it do Big Chief What up J, what up all my n***az in Mo City We on our motherf**ing own n***a, you know I'm saying The down South sh** n***a, Screwston Texas n***a (ay) Al-motherf**ing-ready (ay), heavy like a '57 Cheve (ayyyyaaaay) Already going down country tunes, R.I.P. Pimp Still going down in the South, b**h yeah