Letras:
K Young Tell What You Waitin For

things I've done) Tell me what you waitin' for Won't you pick up the phone and call me Baby why you keep on stallin' Tell me what you waitin' for You

paper bag (Thank God for that) Brown paper bag Thank God for those days, thank God for those nights Though it might seem wrong, thank God for that white

You do this right, you might have the time of ya life Dom Kennedy: Comin from the westside but my fitted say Sox Where you get banged on if you in it

young boy with high young ways 'Cuz I connect three blunts and be high for three days You can tell by the way I walk I ain't from 'round hurr Probably couldn't tell

it Throw on a bomber jacket You could tell the ballas 'cause they bailed wearin Gazelles If they really had money raised we sportin new K's And all the

You dealin with the streets, [YO!] you dealin with the thugs! [YO!] You dealin with the set, [YO!] so y'all throw it up! [Verse 2] It don't matter who you are, or what you

Can you afford to blow this shit? Are you that rich? Why you give a fuck if she dies? Are you that bitch? Do you really think she gives a fuck if you

change for the better) And this is just a mixtape, Damn (It's more of a dedication, D 3!) And this is just a mixtape, Damn (This what ya'll was waitin' for

zonia marlon and shawn ya Lay da beef on dis noodle Make some noodle lasagna 40 cal fetticine tres pound pasta You reach for dis medalion you must like italian, nigga You