Nextel Chirp

[Intro] For all you player haters out there You've tuned into the sounds of the Southern Style DJs (Yup) You've tuned into the sounds of the Southern Style DJs (Yup) [Maceo Speaking] Yea, nuh uh uh— uh uh. Ay, ay bruh, nuh uh, uh uh, ay— Don't hit me dog, come see me. Yuh I ain't tryin to talk, uh, I ain't tryin to talk, get me back. Yuh Fuck wrong with that nigga Hey, quit hittin' me, dog. Come see me Fuck wrong with that nigga, man? We don’t do no talkin' over no phone Fuck wrong with this nigga ass, man? Hey. This nigga here trippin’, dog Nigga tryna jam me up, man Uh uh Nuh uh [Hook] Nigga don't hit me on the Nextel chirp If you’re tryna conversate about some motherfuckin’ work, nope Nigga don't hit me on the Nextel chirp If you’re tryna conversate about some motherfuckin’ work. Why? Because they ’hind em, they ’hind ’em, they ’hind ’em If them feds find em, they find ’em, they find ’em Man, them feds ’hind ’em, they ’hind em, they ’hind ’em If them feds find ’em, they find ’em, they find ’em [Verse 1: Maceo] Nigga don't hit me on the Nextel chirp The Sprint or the Metro ’bout some motherfuckin’ work Look, I don't give a fuck if your tryna buy some purp See, the phone conversation ain’t e’en tryna twerk And don't text message me, hit me on my two-way Talkin’ bout look'chere man, I'm tryin to get a two-way Oh yeah, what’s the ticket goin’ for a four-way? I ain't tryin to have them feds runnin’ in my doorway See, I been doin’ this shit here for a long time Nigga did 25 years over phone time That's a long time to be tryin’ to ride out Pickin up my phone like, “Meet me at the hideout” Cause over the air ain’t e’en tryna talk I gives a damn about whatcha tryna spend or whatcha bought Them folks ear hustlin' outside in a van Tryna peep out who the motherfuckin’ man [Hook] [Verse 2: Fats] You ain't gotta chirp me talking ’bout some cocaine Especially referring about some motherfuckin’ chump change Dog, what’s your problem? You talk like you wired What you tryin' to do? Send a nigga to the fryer? Don't try to get me jammed up ’cause you know they listening (Well let me cop a ounce) Who is this? Dog, you trippin’ (Well let me cop a brick) No, dog, talk business Never would I slip up and make the wrong decision End up like Irv Gotti Conversation they got it ’Cause of a dumb nigga chirpin’ wanna talk about it Naw, dog, don't do it Ask Jamal Lewis One slip over the phone Time— you gon do it They ain't showin no love. They got to ship him off Less time if you motherfuckin' pay ’em off Well I ain't payin’ shit, dog. You gotta listen, homes Take heed of what I'm sayin’: don't chirp my phone! [Hook] [Verse 3: Maceo] Don't get surprised when that letter in the mail Indicted by them folks ‘cause they know what you sell $800,000 bail. God damn, what the hell! Now you cased up doin’ pushups in a cell Then I swear to God, dog, let them feds find ya Talking on the radio man, they gon ride ya Lost in the system, ducked off cause they ’hind ya They be like, "Damn, where he at, I can't find him" So you better listen to the codes of the street You tryna jump in it not knowin’ that it's deep This concrete ocean shit deeper than a sea This ain't a swimming pool, oh, it’s coming past your knees You got it fucked up, better play the game smart Nigga check the game the same since them PowerTel cards [Hook]