Оригинален текст
JD
uhuh, uh, yo
uhuh, uh yo
See around here
How many things can make y'all bounce you-know-im-sayin?
Left to right, right to left
uh, its so so def
and uh, yo, let it go
Chorus: Manish Man
Rule number one, my gotta chase the cheese
Number two, keep these mother-fking hoes on they knees
Number three, come down with your strap-on strap-on
love to hate, so get your cap-on cap-on
Manish Man
One for my aint down for hoes
Free drinks for my stayin crunk throwin bows
Its ya boy Manish Man in this b*tch
love to hate, hoes jock cause I'm gettin rich
Keep my mind on my fetti just to let you know
Strapped with rocks, reds, and camera's in my black fo'fo
On the east-side nigg* tryin to get me some paper
Lythonia, Stone Mountain, all over Decatur
These hoes be lovin the player, Jason calling me baby
But fk that, I rather trot these hoes are too d*mn shady
Look I dont need a b*tch, I'm ridin down for me
And fk a gang of , see I'm a soldier G
And aint another nigg*, who got more got game than me
You need to check yo s**t, because its lame to me
Since 91 been payin the cost, to be the boss
Got no time to floss, because the game's throwed off
Chorus
Manish Man
Number one, my gotta chase the cheese
Number two, keep these mother-fking hoes on they knees
Number three, dont forget to put ya strap on ya side
nigg* who ride who ride
JD
uh, South-side, South-side
If anybody know bout paper-chasing its me
Playboy J to the, E-N-D
Steady showin how we do it down south
Steady ridin s**t that aint even came out
In the club, VIP is where you find me at
Private planes, ice chains, I dont know how to act
Every city, got me somethin pretty keep em on they back
"If I aint a hot boy then what do you call that"
If its my s**t, off the top you can tell
Cranberry, pineapple, four bottles of bale
Cats that play sports, rap fresh from jail
Hoes in packs, screamin out ATL
See I'm the type of nigg* that was built for cash
Drive me and droppin puttin down a smash
Knowin nothing in life, but how to make these hits
Get paper, spit game in, pull me a b*tch
Chorus
Manish Man
Rule number one, my gotta chase the cheese
Number two, keep these mother-fking hoes on they knees
Number three, dont forget to put the strap on ya side
nigg* who ride who ride, East-side, East-side
fk these hoes, fk these snitches
Down south , chop twenty-inches
fk these snitches, and fk these hoes
Four TV screen's, big chevy four do's
best believe imma represent
hardc*re gettin dead presidents
Where the real went, imma let you know
Lay back with the strap, and they aint found no mo'
These lil trippin, all that hollarin-screamin
I know yo momma saw d*ck, she should've sw*llowed that semen
Now I'm drivin through your block, red hot like a demon
c*ck it back, all you see is the beam from my demon
And it aint no ping ping nigg*, black-eye black-eye
No respect for the game, you better watch-out watch-out
Got this s**t on lock, and now you locked-out locked-out
All that hate on a playa, gone get you knocked-out knocked-out
Chorus
Manish Man
Rule number one, my gotta chase the cheese
Number two, keep these mother-fking hoes on they knees
Number three, dont forget to put the strap on ya side
nigg* who ride who ride, East-side, East-side
