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Got it


Album: Single Release




Rap/Gangsta Rap


Waddle tells it like it is. When you got the cash, you can choose your woman, and stay under the radar.

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WRITER: Christopher Greer TITLE: WADDLE Chorus: You know that thang on my hip filled up with them hollows, So much money in my pockets I don’t walk I waddle/I don’t walk I waddle x4 Catch me posted in the club popping off all them bottles So much money in my pants I can’t dance I waddle/I can’t dance I waddle x4 Verse1: I be like damn I bet she think I’m playing My pockets so heavy it got me doing the stinky leg, And I ain’t trying to dance I’m really trying to walk I got that kinda paper where girl I ain’t trying talk, So what up doe tell me what’s happening for the night Are you wasting my time or you gone help me get rite, Are you pretty without make up are you my type, who am I fooling I’m trying to find out if it’s tight, Can you use them muscles to make it feel like it bite Is that head good enough to make me want you as my wife, If I bring you to the telly is you gone ride it like a bike and if I invite some girls are you gone turn into a dyke AIGHT... Verse2: I got the coldest rings my chains got that boulder bling They so heavy if it swings to the left it will make a nigga do the shoulder lean Oh yea I’m cool at it Girls say you smooth daddy I’m like love skip the club; let’s go chill at the pool palace Shorty that’s where I live Believe me that my crib How many niggas you know ain’t famous hood rich living like this I guess it’s just me, you already know what you should do So girl come fuck me Bet it’s magical just like voodoo I beats that, don’t eat that, but it still feels just rite, have you feeling like you ain’t never felt a day in your life I sticks that pure pipe, I sound for sure rite, cocky swagger dicks a dagger I stabs it all night... WRITER: Christopher Greer TITLE: WADDLE Verse3: Drunk leaning like damn love, It’s hard to stand up Tipsy stumbling to my car hoping I don’t get jammed up. That’s something I don’t need to try, I don’t need no D.U.I., Cause I’m young and thuggin and rich, and damn it, I’m way to fly. To be seen on the news, like look at this dude I’m a winner baby- I do not know how to loose. And I couldn’t get how you’d choose Not to ride with a player 24s on the lack with a diamond in the back My car fly like it rides on air But I guess its jus not fair, For them niggas who broke. I’m cocky because I’m gwuappy bread in the Gucci bag looking like a loaf. so I stay on my D like I’m playing in the post iron a nigga flat and serve him with the toast and if he talking bout dough and ain’t talking bout dough bet I help that nigga get ghost POW

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