JIM JONES

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Pin The Tail Lyrics

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Jim Jones : Pin The Tail Lyrics

Songwriters: James, L; Jones, Jim; Giles, C; Jones, E; Wingate, C;

. Send "Pin The Tail" Ringtone to your Cell .

Bird gang Club Banger
Tryin' to holla at you shorty
One focus, one focus only
Tryin' to hit that thang, let's go

We make hits in the studio nightly
We out trying to get this money
We take trips in the winter in jet planes
To climates where it's sunny

We got mami on the dance floor
Grindin' to the beat, tipsy off the bubbly
But at the end of the day, we feelin' to play
I'm tryin' to pin the tail on the donkey

It goes yes, yes yo, fresh to death balla
You can play hard, under pressure I'm stoned
We playin' tight D, I'm in the paint like a G
Some say they gangstas but they ain't like me

Came from an environment, came I was firin'
Then hit the dealers see the range I was buyin'
Don't test drive like a whole whip like you should
Shoving up pies, a whole whip that you should

Then take the proceeds, waist about four G's
Bottles in the club tryin' to get the home and skeez
I'm tryin' to get the dame to breeze
But she putting up a fight like Layla Ali

I told the lady I'll be doin' the turnpike 80 in the fly V
Middle name 40 on the wrist
Last name you can't afford me bitch
Get a camcorder bitch

We make hits in the studio nightly
We out trying to get this money
We take trips in the winter in jet planes
To climates where it's sunny

We got mami on the dance floor
Grindin' to the beat, tipsy off the bubbly
But at the end of the day, we feelin' to play
I'm tryin' to pin the tail on the donkey

Cases of purée, rosé
Look like Picasso painted on the bottles
We throwin' money, we lookin' like lotto's
I could cover chicks with cheese like nachos

Fly out the cove, land in the heat where
New York to Miami bitch
Bitch, I'm in the life of a hood star, rock star without the guitar
Got em' all rubbin' they bitch bra

Got em' all shakin' their tush like
I'ma givin' 'em a taste of the good life
But I give 'em a taste of the good liquor, a taste of the good bud
Next thing you know she'll be tastin' my good

I get money be quiet, you talkin' to the jolly green giant
I see it, I like it, I buy it
Baby I'm flyer then a pilot
Flyin' at his highest, climb it

We make hits in the studio nightly
We out trying to get this money
We take trips in the winter in jet planes
To climates where it's sunny

We got mami on the dance floor
Grindin' to the beat, tipsy off the bubbly
But at the end of the day, we feelin' to play
I'm tryin' to pin the tail on the donkey

Where are my homies? Up to no good
Where are my homies? Yup I'm so hood
What up pimpin', pimpin', I'm exempt already
See my hoes are like my plates, temporary

Act nil you beat it, move on strategic
The marbles man, yup the floors are heated
Cam half pound a quart a kid better ask 'round
I'm sorta needed mack rounds you're deceited

In the 90's, Z3, BB's
Now in the crib the TVs watch TVs
Killen Killen, mo killen and then a kitty purrs
Fuck furs, his and hers, Bentley spurs

Gun talk, real talk, speak mack to mack
We like the Pistons, Bulls, you know back to back
Mazirattis back to back, come ride wit me
On 11 hundred, not the pipe, two five fifties

We make hits in the studio nightly
We out trying to get this money
We take trips in the winter in jet planes
To climates where it's sunny

We got mami on the dance floor
Grindin' to the beat, tipsy off the bubbly
But at the end of the day, we feelin' to play
I'm tryin' to pin the tail on the donkey