Follow My Moves lyrics

[Intro - Birdman - talking]
Yeah n*gga
N-O, Philly (Philly)
You know?
C-M-B, one hundred

[Verse 1 - Freeway]
I was p*ss poor, water used to leak in my place
First we struggled, then we hustled 'til the paper got straight
Copped weight, plates got scrapped
Then we chopped it up and bagged the twelve twelves, five eights
Twenty four/seven on my Kane sh*t, +No Half-Steppin+
For protection, kept a weapon on waist
We grind hard, if we happen to catch a charge
Two lawyers, Frank Spina, Lou Savino on the case
They, spank that, then we straight
I'm a neighborhood legend, Benz wagon with the hatchback
That was way back, before the contract
My right hand had a red Ac' Legend
And we stay smokin reefer, havin marijuana sessions
We had y'all b*tches gettin high, catchin contact
Any problem with you guys, nickel nine that
Bring my hood everywhere I'm at, I define reppin, yeah

[Hook - Freeway]
We from the bottom, now we shinin with jewels
We keep on grindin and we rhyme like we got something to prove
But don't follow me, follow my moves young'n
Don't follow me, follow my moves young'n
[Birdman]
Yeah, we from the bottom and we grind with tools
Make money everyday, candy paint with jewels n*gga
Don't follow me, follow my moves young'n
Don't follow me, follow my moves young'n

[Verse 2 - Birdman]
Fresh paint, Pearl 40, honey racks on the Harley
On the grind every day, big mansions and Ferraris
Uptown n*gga, where it all started
Big money, big guns out the hallway
Hit the hood in something new, stuntin every day
Blowin purple haze, with a 100K
With a hundred B's, all stackin cheese
Y-M, C-M-B
With the Louis frames, with the curtains back
In the new Phantom, star light, laid back
Born rich, "Hood Rich", Cash Money, more sh*t
M.O.B., UPT, spent a mill' on some keys, candy leather seats
Project life, tats and fleets
Hundred mill', it's what we eat

[Hook]

[Verse 3 - Freeway]
Put up, shut up, y'all n*ggas run up
Tag you with the burner for the +#1 Stunna+
Y'all n*ggas never had flows like Freezer
n*gga please, you'll never have cheese like Baby
Keys to the Phantom, not the keys to the Mercedes
"Last of the Mohicans", I'll be sleepin with the cannon
I wake with it on and quake it on, whoever's drawn
You play with it on, I stay with it on
n*gga try me, put the cannon to his wig
If he eatin, I am creepin, bring the cannon to his crib
No doubt, we will go on route
We move out for the money dummy, this is how we live
This is Birdman and Philly Free
We are eatin, gettin money off of words man
Came a long way from flippin birds man
If y'all n*ggas hatin, just let it be
[Hook]