Shut Up (Pac Div)

Knucklehead niggas with the base in the trunk Bout to bubble like peroxide layin in a cut Grown ass kids who don't want to grow up But will have to do it soon cause our money's grown up But even if I had 5 mil in the bank I'm a still put a 5 dollar bill in the tank What you thank? I'm a change cause I got a new Range Fuck that ante up, man who in her got some change And we lookin for Dame's with the tight stretch pants In the big booty stance with no particular plans They all like to party and so do me and my man's So we picked a destination and head straight to the sands That's the beach, for the fam that's at least once a week Where we grab a couple freaks and show em the coral reef You know what I mean, it's that sticky Cali Green And it's out your wildest dreams Listen to the beat and Shut Up (Shut Up in between each line) Just keep your eyes on the road and It's best you keep your mouth closed Stop playin with your cell phone Cause it's about to get thrown Just keep your eyes on the road and It's best to keep your mouth closed And don't you think about touching my Stereo Ay Yo Yo, Ay Yo Yo Hop in my bucket baby, let's swing a episode Hit the mall, trick it all, see how far yo credit go Daddy with them sweaters low, with the Po in front of it Phoney man of the year, who you think you fuckin with Used to get the ugly chicks, now they all country thick All they get is trips to Rosko's for them country grits When I'm on my Southern shit, Might hit the Waffle House Have em gone off the Kush, leave em with the cotton mouth Bring em in swap em out, seat em in knock em down See them twin woofers beatin hard time to quite down Let me play the pilot now, listen to that sound I was Holy Moly when Smoke was singin "Shop Around" See my Collar? Pop it now, Neiman Marcus shopin now Hair did, nails did, got you lookin proper now Wow! you stylin on em, flyer than falcons on em This is for my ladies who crazy and got a mouth on em Shut Up! Naw, there ain't another nigga flyer My bitch so cold you could promote her on the flyer These ugly chicks hatin when I'm rollin up beside her Bendin them corners til the curb kiss the tires These ho niggas liar's that's word to the Choir I be with my nigga Dom in Leimert smokin fire Where's my lighter? Mash the Kush in the Cypher In that puff pass motion, but I ain't touchin yo saliva You Juicy Mouthed, Chickens cluckin in them Hoochie outfits Swift don't just dock the tracks with people we house with Don't talk to me bout fashion dog you be wylin You still think Coogi stylish, Who's ya stylist? I'm usually loungin, puffin on some Ganja Bumpin some Sinatra, Cuttin up some pasta Snackin with my elbow on the table eatin Lobsters Napkin over the collar in case I'm sloppy with the Salsa Man Shut Up