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Work Magic (feat. Young Buck)

I'm gon' ride, I'm gon' ride, they gon' ride, we all gon' ride,

(yea)

I come from the heart of southside (yea)

Holdin' it down for my niggas that died (yea)

I gotta busy bird on my side (yea)

Pop shit and get yo whole mouth wide (yea)Baby had tried to steal off the payroll

Ill have niggas scrappin' the skin off the ya face with the same

Shit they peal a potato (whoo)

I thank the lord for my blessings and I'm glad he gave us the

Will power and reflexes of Larry Davis (ohh)

You don't wanna see my block formin' (uh huh)

That's a 101 doggs and I don't mean the ones with the spots on 'em

Were respected highly

'cause you don't need to practice gymnastics to catch a body

(oh)

Me and moneys like Whitney, next to Bobby (uh huh)

If I bring all my niggas I'll need an extra lobby (uh huh)

As soon as you ain't around Jake (Jake)

You getcha ass whipped for chips

Now that's the real definition of pound cake

I got the crown snake

And you can tell when I'm shoppin' 'cause when the mall stampedin'

You'll feel the ground shake

I got a car I only drive on Thursdays (ha ha)

I'm a stunna', banks blows more cake then birthdays[Chorus]Look at here, ain't nobody 'round here scared (uh uh)

I'm headin' for the top and I'm almost there

Oh yeah this shiny shit right here

Ill work magic and make you niggas disappearLook at here, ain't nobody 'round here scared

I'm headin' for the top and I'm almost there

Oh yeah this shiny shit right here

Ill work magic and make you niggas disappearYou know how I gets down

This pound hold six rounds

I told you I'd be back bitch

Talk that shit now

You hear that fo fif .45 sound

Duck when I spit rounds

'cause this ain't Beverly hills

You in the bricks now

We ain't got shit down here but dope and guns for sell

You get yo head cracked and niggas don't run and tell

Its like we sell crack get caught head back to jail

We on that fuck the police shit

We livin' in hell

You betta' guard yo grill homey

And stand yo ground

These bullets burn

They hit who evers standin' around

I never learn even after I took a couple shots

I just got me some band-aids and bought a couple glocks

Had to go on a rampage and hit a couple blocks

Once they hear that 12-gauge that's when the trouble stops

(boom)

If its beef then I'm ready to ride

Just come to casheville you can find me on the south side

(motherfucka')[Chorus]Now I ain't from Michigan but I'm in the Fab 5

You know, Yayo and 50, Buck and Game, You know my fuckin' name

Whether the truck or train

My minds stuck on the grind

'cause somewhere down the line, a lot of suckas came

Yeah ain't talkin' shit

But we can all tell he ass

Jags are black his eyes like the are-Kelly mask (ah)

You gotta blast me yo (yo)

'cause the Louisville will have yo head lookin' like the top of a

Pistachio

The young gunner with a raspy flow

Got every boyfriend thinkin' they girlfriends a nasty hoe

My heart laughin' a small

Maybe its 'cause my grandpop dropped right after the ball

Banks hops out bulletproof this, bulletproof that, bulletproofs

Snorkle when you hot they hawk you

I got the hood on my shoulda

Chain big as a boulder

The 357 tucka

Motherfucka'[Chorus]Yeah

Motherfucka'

I'm here, yeah

Lloyd banks

G-G-G-G-G G-Unit!

Money by any means, nigga

Songwriters

SHEMER, MARC / BROWN, DARRELL / LLOYD, CHRISTOPHERPublished by

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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