Manners (Remix) lyrics

by

Joey Trap


[Intro]
Mike G, can't do this to ’em, man
That's it right there, Gnealz


[Chorus: KG Smokey]
I got hoes, yeah that b*tch gon dance on camera
I got hoes, she thick like she from Atlanta
I got hoes, f*ck your b*tch I got no manners
I got hoes, she thick like she from Atlanta
I got hoes, yeah that b*tch gon dance on camera
I got hoes, she thick like she from Atlanta
I got hoes, f*ck your b*tch I got no manners
I got hoes, she thick like she from Atlanta

[Verse 1: KG Smokey]
I ain't got no manners, ooh, b*tch I’m popping Xanax, damn
My plug speak in Spanish, ooh, blunts look like Havana, damn
Mix it with a Xanax, moonwalking like Michael Jackson
I just pulled up in that coupe, I'm swerving out of traffic, damn
I'm from southeast, by the Glock, makin' bodies drop
Smokey on another kill streak I don' give a f*ck
Your wife is my b*tch, suck me then she f*ck my squad
b*tch don't know my name, Google me then give me top
I got hoes droppin' knees like they Derrick Rose
I got gas inside my wood and Gucci on my clothes
b*tch don't touch my lean, shut your mouth then give me throat
I just touched the kilo KG Smokey off that boat
b*tch you ugly I ain’t throwin’ ones up on the floor
I need his Xans, I need his lean, I juxed him for a stove
I feel like Tony cus I'm drenched inside Versace robes
I don’ do this for the hoes I do this for my bros

[Chorus: KG Smokey]
I got hoes, yeah that b*tch gon dance on camera
I got hoes, she thick like she from Atlanta
I got hoes, f*ck your b*tch I got no manners
I got hoes, she thick like she from Atlanta
I got hoes, yeah that b*tch gon dance on camera
I got hoes, she thick like she from Atlanta
I got hoes, f*ck your b*tch I got no manners
I got hoes, she thick like she from Atlanta

[Verse 2: Lil Def]
50 round drum, big gun, esskeetit
Fifty-thousand dollar car it's not rented
Pull up to L.A. you know we in it
This our year no competition
Flip a brick we get the dough
Gotta go at five can't book a show
Got two closets and inside two phones
Got two b*tches and two hoes
b*tch don't call my phone if you ain’t tryna give me head
If your man's acting all tough then he might just turn up dead
That's three bullets to the chest and they were all filled with lead
So next time that you acting goofy check your man instead
Gold rings on my hand you might think that my name was Froto
Your shorty riding shotgun if not then I'm riding solo
Big mag on my lap I'm only rocking with a 44
I do not f*ck with people if I know they talk with po-po

[Chorus: KG Smokey]
I got hoes, yeah that b*tch gon dance on camera
I got hoes, she thick like she from Atlanta
I got hoes, f*ck your b*tch I got no manners
I got hoes, she thick like she from Atlanta
I got hoes, yeah that b*tch gon dance on camera
I got hoes, she thick like she from Atlanta
I got hoes, f*ck your b*tch I got no manners
I got hoes, she thick like she from Atlanta

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