Pin the Tail - Max B, Jim Jones, Juelz Santana

Max B:

Byrdgang club banger

Tryna holla at ya shorty

Won’t focus, won’t focus only

Tryna hit that thang, let’s go

Hook

Max B:

We make hits in the studio nightly

We out tryna get this money

We make trips in the winter in jet planes

The cloud match where it’s sunny

We got mami on the dance floor grindin' to the beat

Tipsy off the bubbly

But at the end of the day

You finna to play

I’m tryna pin the tail on the donkey

Jim Jones:

It goes yes, yes y’all an'

Fresh to death ballin' (Ballin')

You can play hard under pressure, I’m scorin'

They playin' tight D, I’m in the paint like a G

And some say they gangstas but they ain’t like me (Not at all)

I come from an environment, 'caine I was fryin' it

Then hit the dealer, see the Range I was buyin' it

We don’t testdrive, but the whole whip like you should

Chefin' up pies, a whole brick like you should

Then take the proceeds, waste about 4 G’s

With models in the club

Tryna get to hold the skeeze (Gettin' twisted)

I tried to get the dame to breeze

But she puttin' up a fight like Layla Ali

(Well what’s ya name nigga)

I told the lady I’ll be

Doing the turnpike, 80 in the fly V

Middle name: 40 On The Wrist

Last Name: You Can’t Afford Me Bitch

Get a camcorder bitch (yeah)

Hook

Juelz Santana:

Cases of Perrier Rose (yep)

Look like Picasso painted on the bottle

We throwing money, we lookin' like lotto

I can cover chicks with cheese like nachos

Fly out the cold (cold) land in the heat where

New York to Miami Beach (Yeah)

Bitch I live the life of a hood star

Rockstar without the guitar

Got 'em all rubbin' they push bras (Ah)

Got 'em all shakin' they tush like

I’ma give 'em a taste of the good life (nope)

But I give 'em a taste of the good liquor

A taste of the good bud

Next thing you know, she’ll be tasting my good, uhhh

I get money, be quiet

You’re talking to the Jolly Green Giant

(I) I see it (I) I like it (I) I buy it (buy it)

Baby I’m flyer than a pilot flying at his highest climate

Ay

Hook

Cam’ron:

Where my homies?

up to no good

Where my homies?

yep, I’m so hood

What up pimpin', pimpin'

I’m exempt already

See, my hoes are like me plates, temporary

I ignore you, beat it

Move more strategic

The marble’s mad, yep, the floors are heated

Can’t half pound or quarter key it

Better ask 'round, I’m sorta needed

Backgrounds or to see it

In the 90's.

Z3s, BBs

Now in the crib, TVs watch TVs

Killa killin' more killin' 'em than a kitty purrs (Meow)

Fuck furs, his and hers, Bentley spurs

Guntalk, real talk, speak Mac to Mac

We like the Pistons, Bulls, you know, back to back

Maserati’s, back to back, come ride with me

On 1100, not the bike, two 550s

Killa

Hook