Hello, this is WHATA request line. What would you like to hear?
Yeah, could y 'all play some of that Mr. 2000?
Who?
You know, Manny Mota, go get him.
I'm sorry, we didn't play that shit here.
This is WHATA request line. What would you like to hear?
What I'm saying is, hey, can you play some of that Manny Mota?
For me, that's that guy's shit.
We don't play that shit here!
The rapper gone bad, mad back to Honja.
My shit monster, hooked on ganja.
I'ma be the one to let the Rolos sing.
Spins up, give a fuck when I swallow me.
Nigga can't you notice, I keep a cut throat.
Manny get the backwoods, let's go.
It's 3 .5, a good crib tonight.
Might blow a whole motherfuckin' zip tonight.
We in a 7th lane, large Chevrolet.
She say face jacket, that'll rob in a day.
Me and Billa, it's old school -like feelin'.
Make one hoe pay, like six sisters named Sheila.
It's Pimpin' Pilot, and cry with Dean.
When I mash on the gas, the tires gon' spin.
Turn a housewife into a shady hoe.
And I'm still too bored for the radio.
Hey, DJ, fuck all of y 'all.
Don't fuck my shit all night long.
I keep some dancin', but it's out of place.
So I'ma step it up anyway.
Hey, DJ, fuck all of y 'all.
Don't fuck my shit all night long.
I keep some dancin', but it's out of place.
So I'ma step it up anyway.
Nine in the mornin', feds at my door.
I didn't get a chance to grab my endo.
Told the homeless cop, we about to bitch.
Hit the back fence when the motel's six.
Mad with no mom, but glad to be me.
Called Dre and Young Manny to come and spook me.
Ridin' in the hoopie, but the motors are sad.
4 -5 -4 -11 -5 for Stash.
We outrun Tash.
This ain't Patrol.
It's been from the radio since eight years old.
We still gon' go.
Without no plot.
And move shit illegal up and down the gang.
So hey, DJ, you can get these nuts.
If I can give a fuck, get the plaintiffs cut.
I'm pimpin' up, nigga.
Have the big.
And you can get the C to the wig.
Hey, DJ, fuck all of y 'all.
Don't fuck my shit.
All night long.
I keep them thangs tanned.
Quits at their place.
Don't wanna stay up anyway.
Hey, DJ, fuck all of y 'all.
Don't fuck my shit.
All night long.
I keep them thangs tanned.
Quits at their place.
Don't wanna stay up anyway.
Fuck my face and Manny keeps the party live.
And that's for real.
I bring the type of shit that only true ghetto gorillas feel.
Y 'all know the deal.
We know to get hip.
Gang back while I kill.
It's a regular boat lumpin'.
But I don't give a fuck.
Plus, they love it.
Can't get enough of it.
So I'ma keep on hittin'.
Don't interrupt it.
Love ya.
Shit, they love it.
No need to be bustin' over nothin'.
But that dope shit.
Don't need to be buckin'.
Cause I'm talkin' about drugs, guns, and dumpin'.
And how I be pimpin'.
Ain't nobody rich enough to go get it.
Gotta get that money.
Run out on my gunny.
It's back on the block.
First shot in the sale block.
We feel so thick.
Keep that loop runnin' through your crew like it's Glock box.
We don't stop.
But fuck y 'all, we both gone.
Like, who are?
Flippin' around.
But the rhythm be so vicious.
We do hard.
Mother radio.
Ditto niggas.
Same bar.
Prepare a plate.
But it's no cake.
We be bumpin' up every boulevard.
We gone domestic.
Y 'all not gettin' a bop.
Fuck bein' a superstar.
Hey, BJ.
Fuck all of y 'all.
Who don't bump my shit all night long.
I give some damn time.
We is out at play.
So I'ma stay papered up anyway.
Hey, BJ.
Fuck all of y 'all.
Who don't bump my shit all night long.
I give some damn time.
We is out at play.
So I'ma stay papered up anyway.
Hey, BJ.
Fuck all of y 'all.
Fuck all of y 'all.
I'ma go.
I'ma come off too hard for the radio.
But there's somethin' perfect for the bloody streets.
With the Cutty Maxx D .R .E.
And the Savage B.
And the go -getter Manny Mo.
Don't request this.
That respect is forever in the video.
Tell them 7 -12 shit ain't no shit.
Run the bank.
Take some extra.
I'm tellin' them they already cocked back.
So when I see a scrap, let the gas break.
If this an ass Mexican.
It ain't easy bein' me.
Will I remain free?
Or will I be in the pit with gangsta fleas?
Cause then they go again.
Tryin' to hold us down.
Squirts everywhere.
Can't stand the sound.
But the G's gon' call it.
Throwin' it up in T's.
We definitely gon' pop it.
For the Maxx D .R .E.
R .I .P.
Gang gang enhancements.
Too hard for the radio.
Park Daws.
West Coast.
Fairfield or Vallejo.
You know how the game go.
7 -07, bitch.
