Tekst:
Mad In Paris

my hut now" [Mad Mike scratches] "DJ".. "Mad!".. "Huh, what?".. "Tear shit up" "DJ".. "Mad!".. "Say what?".. "Cuttin like a blade" "DJ".. "Mad!".. "So.. so.. so sick" "DJ".. "Mad

blow your brain! Diddy got the remedy for the enemies, And the run is the gun, so my flow go back! I'm on the last train to Paris, ...bonjour! ... See

these beats. But the word on the street is keep quiet. Me and my nigga tyga, patron got us wildin Stereophone cup, throwing money in my clubs, oh you mad

try it And you lost all your pounds The doctor's on vacation, so you took the medication And wound up in lost and found So we took a trip to Paris '

you be them niggaz who fuckin album flop YOU KNOW! Boat done sank and it ain't left the dock C'MON! Mad cause I'm hotHE JUST - mad cause he not You ain

Paris and you've ever missed a plane Nothin' much to do but sit around Drink a little, yawn a couple, laugh at where you come from Have another glass of Paris

sensational style My wedding with the streets got the cake but no vows I'm arrogant as fuck; who cares? You suck! Rappers talking about "We the best" Have been to Paris

hold the weight of four Synagogues Jelly'd uptown in them beat down rented cars Going mad wetting 'em Milk cash, heavy tecks, hood rats, sexin 'em Paris

the weight of four Synagogues Jelly'd uptown in them beat down rented cars Going mad wetting 'em Milk cash, heavy tecks, hood rats, sexin 'em Paris