CMT - Paper Trippin' lyrics

[WC] Uhh, yeah! What's crackin y'all? Dub C Still chasin this cheese, puttin it down Wha**up Nate? [Hook: Nate Dogg] n***a I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (dem dolla dolla dollars) Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need (we rider rider riders) n***a I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (yeah, yeah) Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need [WC] Check it out What they hittin fo'? Look I'm sick of all this chattin Bullsh** rappin, let's really get it a-crackin Y'all n***as ain't ready fo' a n***a that's gettin paper Foe scraper, dice shaker, the white, Chuck Taylors Dark fat laces and fetti with big-a** faces Blue gators (?), X.O. by the cases The rider ringleader with weed and my zag smashin Ya bang amba**ador, givin it up back at'cha blastin ya Off brand a**a**in-er, jackin for figures c'mon Totalled up a rock, with a repetitive offender The purple tinter, the big spender The realest n***a you know, smellin like doe doe and Pruno Sick with the flow, swangin low-lows and Harleys Gather the guests at my mansions and throw my parole parties Ex criminal turned corporate; elevated my game to worldwide nation Tippin on paper trippin nia [Hook] [WC] Big beans or big wings or big screens Befo' y'all stands a ghetto n***a with big dreams I throw the dice, close my eyes and rich roll 'em Take my handkerchief and fold 'em, y'all know the slogan Riders don't worry multiply shift gears Toss fingers in the sky, f** hoes and stay high The bigger the lick the bigger the hit to cash it all So whether they ready or not I'm snatchin it all Wood grains and chrome frames the mode is hang A trick that won't sang, transported dem thangs f** the pain, give me a label ain't sh** funny Look I'm tryin to touch that Rush and Lyor Cohen's money Get the Neville's money and blow doja with my stash on rich And get my dick licked by the baddest b**h Fade ya, real boy major with tough sh** they ain't got Like three-way pagers, n***a I'm paper trippin [Hook] [Nate Dogg] Paper is all.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars) .. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars) .. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars) .. I need [WC] Testin testin, broadcastin live All day unleaded'll go fo' forty-nine No garbage no cut, just the bomb pow-wow Gots to get my hands on that new body style Floss all you n***a, toss liquor up A rugged n***a smokin on a cigarette bu*t Mashin and I ain't lettin the pedal up Cause all these songs on my radio ain't ghetto enough Shutted 'em up with the tank in the cut, I'm sweated to bust Dub C'zy, fo'ever, gettin 'em up Hands down I'm the motherf**in man Who else could take a gang hop and turn it to a national dance Givin the fans a glance of a rider saggin his pants With my rag on my cane standin in a penguin stance, n***a Worldwidin, ridin, collidin Fool it's sincerely yours the Ghetto Heisman, paper trippin [Hook] [WC] Dub C, ghetto extrordinaire, hood fabulous Comin through with fingers in the air Y'all know what time it is [Nate] n***a I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's [WC] Dem dolla dolla dollars