Stay out of My Way - Mase, Total

Hey yo, dogs, for real?

I’m yo’man but you got the address up Cuz now you got chicks talk’What the fuck

What the fuck, what the fuck

You know somebody swung on me &cut me?

(Come on come on come on)

You know somebody pulled a gun on me or robbed me?

(Come on come on come on)

Is they stoppin’my money?

(Hell no)

(Come on come on come on)

Then it ain’t no problem here

(Come on come on come on)

C’mon I ain’t wit that man

(Yeah, what, what)

Just throw my B back on Yo, yo, yo You know my mission ain’t complete

'Till I hit the city with a 600 Jeep

Hardest nigga from All Out you wanna meet

Hash in the dash with heat under the seat

Chased Kate 52 states straight

But still ain’t nothin’sweet

I took a year off to let the young nigga’s eat

Everybody wit’me want bucks

Walk around platinum linked up With money like Brink trucks

Shit get too hot?

Puff, put the minks up Come back in the summertime like fuck it, it’s summertime

All Out tattoo’s over wife beaters

Get mail Branson, never buy reefer

Bentley five seater, it’s all for real

First rapper to close down a mall with a mil'

The clothes, the hoes, the cars that flaunt

Plus the money so I’m on nigga one

Talk to me If you don’t fuck with me Like I don’t fuck with you

It ain’t much for us to talk about

Cuz you don’t fuck with me (Yo, yo, yo, yo)

And you know I don’t fuck with you

So all I can say (uh uh)

Is stay out my way

Don’t take much to wake up, taped up Fuck the district, I live in Jacob

Hit a nigga, bitch nigga, kiss and made up See me without Puff, try to get your weight up, uh Ain't nuttin'between you and me And on the real, nuttin'you could do wit me I got cash that'

ll fund your leave

You’ll pull that hoodie over your head

And put five in your Ceasar

Doubt me now and die a believer

Run and catch bullets like a wide receiver

When the war’s on, put your gloves and your Gore’s on Teflon hard hat nigga, put it all on Beef no more that’s what other nigga’s for

I got a fam’that love to go to war

Love to get locked up, love pickin’the odds up Love not comin’home, love to be boxed up

I’m from a town where kids could pop up Little punks in garbage bags, body all chopped up

I’ll come and run your block, knowin’you got popped up Arms are rocked up, Bentley wit’the top up Uh, you don’t stop, come on Repeat 1 while:

What, what, what

Yeah yeah yeah what what what

You don’t like me nigga?

(What the fuck?)

You wanna fight me nigga?

(Huh? huh?)

Stop frontin’nigga (You frontin’nigga)

Uh Yo, one, two, three, four

Everybody on the floor

You see grams, I’mma see craters

By the time you see land I’mma see acres

Drop another CD just to see paper

And before you see me you’ll see the maker

All I see is more chances, more advances

More houses, no spouses, more beaches

Wild thugs around me and no leechin'

When they gun’s out playa, there’ll be no reachin'

Ballin’in Dirty South wit’no creases

And all I see is more F-in'iced out Jesus pieces

The rock over Sean John fleeces

You never love the money like we love it Pay the chick sucka, and let her teeth touch it All Out

Bad Boy forever

The Movement

What