Look here I can’t afford to pause
And I do not sleep
Still buying all my drawz up at the Swap Meet
I’m making lots of doe
But funny how I’ma spend it
I don’t need new clothes
Just property with tenants
And I don’t know no jokes
I’m not about no play
Love for all my folks who poor in South L.A.
I’m from the slums of life
Didn’t have a pot to put it
That’s why I love this mic and how I got so good at
Bussin’ all these flows and bussin’ all these tracks
We gon’ get some gold get us some platinum plaques
(I heard that)
Money talk I stay fluent with
Busters can’t ruin it
Cause’ we straight doing it big

CHORUS
Big, huge, monumental
Stretched out four door Continental
Enough for me plus all my kin folk
That’s how we rollin’ that’s how we roll (repeat)

They love when I rhyme
My flow is divine I ain’t the one ta’
Get caught up in this jungle, sometimes it make me wonder
How Wall Street all eat good and my hood hungers
But we making it escaping these snakes like Anaconda
Big, huge through paying our dues
Now Avenue is taking over we ain’t playing with fools
Or playing with crews
You dudes must have got it confused
Tena Jones paper chasing
Mama need some new shoes
We do it big

CHORUS

To the homie Mod, Tena
The lineage of Jones
Known for sown seeds, don’t get it twisted we break bones
Uproot from homes
Take the cutest turn em’ into trolls and gnomes
So far fetched, so far gone
The very same blood through them and Grits of course it’s
And since we share a spirit make sense combine the forces
No time to sort our loses (they shooting’)
We rhythmically inclined cataclysmically in time to be defined the bosses

I got a Jones for a hit, so I’m swerving’ the block
On 4th Ave cause’ I know they got them bricks that rock
My boy MOD hit us off with some heat to speak on
The average M.C. need weed to be gone
Monumental life forms, who twice born
And write poems in clubs making thugs throw forearms
In the dirty, dirty
Mid south, Tennessee,
Nashville, Grits legendary spitters fo’sheez

CHORUS

We all just wanna be loved I guess
Yes, that’s why I stay until A.M. making’ hits that ought’ a be subbed
Ought’ a be dubbed one of the best
I’m ill, every D.J. who real should bang it
This one ought’ a be clubbed
Love when I’m rubbed the wrong way
So some offend me
Dismissed by many, my Christmas spent in the lab
Pen and pad while they sip Cris’ and Henny
I write these life lessons and spit just what’s in me
Be big like Dikembe
Here to Japan is what my plan is
Put money right where my hand is
Ghetto brothas who po’ can understand this
And folks surviving’ off just bread and mayonnaise
I be wondering who’s uncle Sam is
Cause’ in South Central L.A. we barely can live
I hand picked my squad only a few in it
Label tried screwing it
We survived doing it big

CHORUS

Lyrics by Ahmad Jones, Teron Carter, Stacy Jones / Music by A. Jones, T. Shakes / Lookalive Music Publishing/ Universal Music Publishing Ltd. - Admin by Universal Music Publishing (BMI) / Fortiara Music Admin. by Fortiara Music (BMI)/ Cof Music/ EMAC Music Publishing- Admin by EMAC Music Publishing (BMI) / 5E Music/ EMAC Music Publishing- Admin by EMAC Music Publishing (BMI)