Текст N.O.R.E. – Lehhhgooo

Hook: Busta Rhymes
Y’all know what it is
I sneak up in the club
I got that ratchet on me

Verse 1: N.O.R.E.
Fast car, top down
Do she know how I like it? Top down
Red top, red bottoms
What up with J.B.?
The feds try to ride em
Guacamole, my pistol-I
Kick niggas in they face, soccer goalie
Uh huh, I’m kinda feeling myself
No E-pill or nothin’ but I’m feelin myself
Yup, Southpaw awkward, left hand slapbox
Them bitches whip soft toys, matchbox
And I be good on them back blocks
I’m old school with the drop tops and rag tops
Brought the cash boy, iPads and laptops
I got the hammer there, still in the stash box
I stand tall, youngins look up to me
And OGs got love, they fuck with me

Hook

Verse 2: Game
Somebody walked up and told me Nore shot somebody
So I shot him and turned up my Rakim
Sped off, black Lincoln sittin’ on stock rims
Under black tint Cincinnati cock brim
You know my flavor nigga, pull out your razor nigga
Let ’em slice me once then I’m a blaze a nigga
Taste your blood like 45 minutes after Mayweather lace his gloves fighting Pacquiao
And all you little new niggas jockin’ styles
Just to pack a crowd, I come through acting wild
Dressed in all black, blacker than a black and mild
Blowing on that sour diesel, fuck yeah my jacket loud
My bitches scream, my tires screech
I bust guns and I wire teeth
Hurricane and N.O.R.E
Can’t live with us then put us where God be

Hook

Verse 3: Waka Flocka
You’re like a Flocka calm down, shawty let it go
Brick squad pulled up it’s like a car show
Bands in my pocket, flag out my cargos
V.I.P. status so I’m walking through the back door
On that Remy V, I don’t want brown
I love the sound when your girl go down
Beef you better let it go
My youngins, they’ll open up your cantaloupe
Every round on me ’til the bar close
Worlds above haters, Chicago
Got a 9 on me, call me Rondo
Easter pink in my cup, no Nuvo