Red Cafe, Fabolous - This Is It (Luchini 2010) lyrics
Fabolous [John David Jackson]
[Red Cafe, Fabolous - This Is It Luchini 2010 lyrics]
No Witnesses, yeah
This is it, what
Them dollars falling from the sky
Let's get rich, what
Gon' get this money 'fore I die
I can't quit, what
Now pop the Rosé, hit the kush, let's get lit
What, what, what
Trying to steal my style be like boosting
I be duecing
On bump bitches talking loose and
You ain't hurting me baby
I just hate a nuisance
Huh, it's about that time
Now I'm looking at my Audemar
Shorty it's now or never, see tomorrow
I ain't calling ya I don't give a fuck how
Many athletes stalking ya
I'm that nigga with the certified sticker
Dynamic uno, dynamic duo
We be the dream team, y'all still induco
Izzr
And Loso, I'm only claiming one son
That's Prince Joso the rest you niggas I be
Sonning with the flow so
I'm guessing there ain't no need for
Me to go to Maury Po'
Split ya shit to the white, nigga, Oreo
My shorty blow, call her detonator
She call me Funeral
She think I'ma dead her later
My money too heavy to play
'round with you featherweighters
And y'all ain't doing good enough
I need some better haters
Yeah, huh, yeah
East coast, killer bitch puller, kush burner
Suicide doors on that double R, swerver
Waves so sick, I'm like a Malibu surfer
Pimp game easy, middle name Ike Turner, huh
This is it, what
Them dollars falling from the sky
Let's get rich, what
Gon' get this money 'fore I die
I can't quit, what
Now pop the Rosé, hit the kush, let's get lit
What, what, what
Huh, you know I smoke good
Willie Wonka in the dutchie
Ten Patrón shots
She in the club trying to fuck me
Tell a friend tell a friend - I'm back
Dope peddling
I'm half past seven, want it all
No settlement
On a world tour, bottles on pour
Fresher than Febreze, please, I need a encore
(what else?)
Lyrically, Cafe connected umbilically
I'll leave ya body bed critically
It's moving
And who the hell would wanna
Go against the movement
'Cause if you do, tool time, Home Improvement
No decoration, no speculation
I ain't playing with you niggas
No recreation
I got a line on you cats like a Tiger strip
So you got it coming to you like Tiger wife
Diddy call me Goldie 'cause
I'm a smooth speaker
Foot to her ass with a red bottom sneaker
Goldie said i like that put a foot
To her ass, I like that, hahaha
This is it, what
Them dollars falling from the sky
Let's get rich, what
Gon' get this money 'fore I die
I can't quit, what
Now pop the Rosé, hit the kush, let's get lit
What, what, what
Huh, it's too easy it's that Shakedown
Street Fidda didda dam experience
Yeah, believe that