Let Me Find Out Remix ft. Juicy J, T.I. & Doe B

Let Me Find Out Remix ft. Juicy J, T.I. & Doe B Lyrics Hustle Gang

Mixtape: G.D.O.D. (Get Dough Or Die)

[Verse 1: Doe B]
Let me find out these niggas still hating on the low
And their whole life savings I get paid for a show
Then re-up, there's my walkthrough
My sneakers, did they house know?
Think I need a whole thang of Keisha just to talk to 'em
Small town, big money, baby, I make boss moves
They say Doe B lane is like T-Pain withouth the autotune
Bring out the Apollo boom
I'mma sandman these niggas
Give you two thumbs down
Boy, your swag ain't official
Let me find out them fake Guccis
Let me find out them fake Louis
Let me find out your baby mama is a man-eater
She ate my children
Let me find out you fake juug
And I come through like "aye, buddy!"
You 25, just started trapping
Let me find out you straight work it
Taylor Gang, straight trippy
Hustle Gang what it is, pimping?
Got so many white friends I bring back Tommy Hilfiger
ATL, let me find out
Memphis Ten, let me find out
M.I.A., N-Y-C, Texas, Cali, Chi-Town

Let me find out...
Let me find out...
Nigga, let me find out
Let me find out...
Bitch, let me find out...
Let me find out...
Nigga, let me find out
Bitch, let me find out...

[Verse 2 : T.I.]
Let me find out and I'm ridin' out
Got four choppers, no 9s out
I'm reset, you timed out
I'm playin' with it, you fouled out
You got a foul mouth? You'll get two shots
Nigga, AND-1 with my handgun
Nigga talk about dough but that's something
You ain't never had your hands on
Got folk in Alabama, they still call me on that...
I do it for the gutter, not just to get the glamour
Who that nigga from Atlanta say he got a lot of drugs?
Say you looking for a plug? Bitch, you lookin' at the plug
I'mma... real young nigga
You want this hoe, better come get her
We don't want your bitch, mane
We just wanna have fun with her
Okay, well, let me find out you channeled it
Ridin' 'round town just saving hoes
Nigga, she ain't all yours, we shared the bitch
But let me find out she havin' your baby, though


[Verse 3 : Juicy J]
Let me find out... Juicy J's your girl's favorite rapper
I'mma fuck her all night and I'mma give her back after
I ain't hand cuffing these hoes like shackles
For the green and the cheese like a Green Bay Packer
Trippy Mane, fuck you baby
I come and play like Tom Brady
Kush is my medication
Ride presidential like Ronald Reagan
Pussy niggas need to stop hating
My flow sick like cancer patients
Rolex and a new Bugatti, yes, bitch I'm ice skating
My last bitch must've been a chauffeur, she drove me crazy
No key, that space age, my ignition, I done made it
Juicy J, that's trippy, hoe - Taylor Gang, that's trippy, hoe
Smokin' on that Christmas tree my belt buckle like mistletoe
Houston with your wife - she just spent the night
With my dick in her mouth and my balls in her hand
Like the bitch was shootin' dice
Juicy J, I got long money
I got 1998 song money
Bitch pour that Patron for me
I rock shows, boy, I'm stone money


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