WC - That’s What I’m Talking About lyrics

They call me Dub Cuda was the last name
Money in my lap doing a buck in the fast lane
The passion of a hustler I got it
And if it ain't about the money
I don't wanna talk about it
The passion of a hustler I got it
And if it ain't about the money
I don't wanna talk about it


Now lemme see your fingers in the sky
And if you like money keep em' up high
Stand up put your hands up show
Me what you all about
Real shit nigga
Yeah that's what I'm talking about

Gettin' it in and outha the concrete boots
In a coupe a hundred ten blowing like a flute
Fresh off of lock down straight out the chute
Nigga down for whatever still about the loot
The property of poverty the looters of youth
Now it's denim on they leather
While removing the roof
The hog on the hog with the D's on the Deuce
And you can blame it on the alcohol
The weed and the juice look
Lower my weaponry
Starter cap to the left of me
You know when I rep a "C" Dub
S to the death of me
Motherfuckers wasn't respecting me
But I'm all up in your chest with heat
Giving you sideline bitter niggas vasectomies
Till I rest in peace, hustle aggressively
Your nigga's a bitch
Baby you need to sit next to me
Dub Cuda the bandana dangler
OT countin' dirty money with the hanky up


Now lemme see your fingers in the sky
And if you like money keep em' up high
Stand up put your hands up show
Me what you all about
Real shit nigga
Yeah that's what I'm talking about

?Dub got shaked, they get us off you?
Comin again please
Gimme something to walk too
I can't leave see
For all of my niggas who don't wear
Tight jeans up they ass needs me
Went independent last CD still
Sold a shitload
Of records no radio or TV
And I'm sticking to the program
Chucks on the concrete while
The Cadillac door slams
The "W" was my star symbol
My jams make niggas get down
Like barrels outha car windows
I'm a nut for Cheese and Chuck T's
Addicted to big butt cheeks and weaves
Not a pop artist but I'll pop?they heezee?
A branch of the same tree as Pac and Eazy
Bumpin Jam Master Jay & Biggie
Iron on the stove shakin up the
Starch can sprayin my Dickies

Now lemme see your fingers in the sky
And if you like money keep em' up high
Stand up put your hands up show
Me what you all about
Real shit nigga
Yeah that's what I'm talking about


Now who that nigga quick to shoot it
Cap the truest
The closest to the streets to do it me
The D Fisher in this rap shit I'm a vet
?And a blue fo' five
Tied around the neezeck?
Your future daddy I might be
You ain't never been with a nigga like me
Baby slide me you number I'll
Call you later this weekend
I can't talk now I'm on my
Way to rob the weed man
Loved by a few hated by majority
I'm the reason these rappers keep security
I go hard kick gears and jump cars
Chuckin up the hood three wheelin
In your front yard
You niggas is temporary, Facebook gangstas
I put faces on obituaries nigga
Dub Cuda the bandana dangler
OT countin' dirty money with the hanky up

Now lemme see your fingers in the sky
And if you like money keep em' up high
Stand up put your hands up show
Me what you all about
Real shit nigga
Yeah that's what I'm talking about