Commas Remix

[Verse 1: Young Jeezy] When you know I’m in the Chi, you know I fuck with L.E.P And you know it’s CTE until the fuckin’ death of me What you niggas wanna do? You know it’s 30 for a girl Nigga commas on my commas, motherfucker, it’s the world Black bandanas on them llamas, my lil’ niggas piranhas Up early in the AM, count a half mill’ in my pyjamas These rap niggas be frontin’ – I’m a real nigga, I be stuntin’ See me a certified street nigga all the bad bitches be wantin’ Nigga, 250, 125 – nigga, all that on the table Take ‘em out, now let ‘em dry, then I flip them bitches like Egos Got… in my garage, got units all in my basement Them ARs with a hundred rounds, swear the cars look like the Matrix Got grams all on my scale… bag full of that mail A hundred racks off in the safe house, and I’m savin’ that shit for bail One time for my lawyer, ten-out-of-ten a nigga’ll beat the charge Show up to court in an Armani suit, way cooler than Chico the Boss [Verse 2] My wrist’s out as I hit the corner, them 50-pointers bling hard Got a million dollars in the bank and I’m still swiping that Link Card 50 large in that shoebox, the rest, do that on debit Not only that, I feed the killers, I cleaned up all their credit See, I ain’t startin’ no rap beef, but we got heat, got money Touch me and you gon’ see just how much loyalty niggas got for me Walk inside that studio and start squeezing off in that bitch Way y’all been falling out you would think I had lean off in them clips With that said, pull it, nigga – I’ve got boxes on top of bullets, nigga With a big, stupid-ass cannon on me You ain’t never catchin’ no footage, nigga [Hook] I need commas after my commas, commas after my commas I’ve got commas after my commas, commas after my commas We ain’t talking no bands nigga, we ain’t talking no bands, nigga We ain’t talking no bands nigga, we ain’t talking no bands… [Verse 3] …18, still live with mama Still watch her cook up lasagna Steel with us when we move We some animals with the llamas Sleep on me, snatch your pyjamas Son, I’m hot as a sauna That’s heat, that’s that “don’t touch” flow They bite like piranhas Hittin’ daughters and hittin’ mamas Dick kickin’ up family drama What, you know King Kid Palmer? Man, them chicks, I wanna palm ‘em All these young souls dying in the Chi Man, where the fuck is Obama? Probably somewhere in the Bahamas Countin’ commas after his commas [Verse 4: Ma$e] You know my mama raised me on wic My bed used to smell pissy Got two rollies, two chains, and I’m startin’ to feel like Tity I did it all for my city when I did it on ‘em like Nicki If them niggas really want bottles, man, I’ll send ‘em to ‘em like Drizzy My roof crack, your boo asks “who’s that new cat with his hooves black?” You know how fools act, get your jewels snatched Don’t wanna lose that, you’d better scoot back That green longer than Dino, that Coupe roof is like chemo That jewelry lit up like Reno, put that dot on you like Bingo I’m ridin’ round my city, pretty dimple up in my face I’ve got flooded AP on, white pimples up in that face I’m photogenic, I know the women… [?]I know my limits, make no commitments Now hold up a minute, tre ocho in it [Hook] [Verse 5] Nigga, I’ve got commas after my commas Ain’t no need to beat around the bush Took my bitch taxes and bought me a few pounds of kush I’ve got A1, my lawyer’s paid So that mean my business straight Got a penthouse in the trunk, and it’s all off Section 8 We ain’t talkin’ per Diem and we ain’t talkin’ no budgets When they say I’ve got a bag, boy, they ain’t talkin’ no luggage Them niggas’ albums is garbage, man, don’t believe them numbers They know I keep them shooters, but they ain’t hittin’ no numbers [Verse 6: T.I.] I hate a fake nigga and a fuck nigga I hate to see a sucker actin’ like a tough nigga We respected by all the gangs, we don’t bang, though But still’ll pull up on your block with them flamethrowers I took a hundred grand, turned it to a half a mill’ Got the commas comin', went to prison, money comin’ still Race any nigga in the game to a hundred mill’ They stallin’ out at 10 or 20, but I’m runnin’ still All I wear Hustle Gang, nigga, fuck Gucci See I ain’t the one that talk shit ’bout a nigga then say “what’s up” to him Nah… you got a problem with me, do it then Try me partner, bet we end up on the news again [?] Nigga keep sayin’ my name, oh, somebody finna lose again He say he driving what I drive, I’ve got the title, though And I’ve got the title all you pussy niggas fightin’ for King, nigga…