Mr. Fresh Lyrics - Cory Gunz

1,2 buckle my shoe, unlaced ears, lil mama what it do (what u mean?) 

What it do to fit you on those jeans, 

On your thighs so tight its like your hips cant breathe 

Im in the spot with my wrist on freeze 

N a couple of thugs with a grip on squeeze 

Pair of champs on, I get my limp on 

like I get my pimp on play you just bench warm 

Summertime my louis flips on 

Before I make u wana get ur tip on 

U said lil ron'names his own 

He keeps it fly, I dont knw wat ur mans on 

See I less see once we get our benz on 

U step on my nikes ices with ur chin zone 

Im in this game just tryin to get my friends on 

And all you blockers get defended 

Now yall you tell me.. 

Is the fitted low? YES 

Money low? NO 

Ice Bright? BRIGHT 

Kicks tight? 4 SHO 

Game tight? 4 SHO 

Haters see me? YES 

Never none less lil homie just call me Mr. Fresh 

Just call me MR. FRESH (4x) 

They like why u gotta be so fly? 

Homie I got it from the street no lie 

Between me n u shorty I see bare sheets 

It must be in opposite the dead sleep 

See me pull up in the red jeep 

See me hop out with the red sneaks 

See me pull up in the blue coup 

Rims match the kicks blue boots 

See me pull up in some green clean 

Prob rockin a pair of mean greens 

But you dont know I get green seems 

The US prob in the same dream 

Heavy glin I make my limousines lean 

Aint no 1 ons we known to intervien 

But I swear if I looked u in the face 

Itll b like I took a picture in ur face 

Or rather like Tyson hit u in the face 

U waitin to take my shit now this a taste 

Now yall you tell me.. 

Is the fitted low? YES 

Money low? NO 

Ice Bright? BRIGHT 

Kicks tight? 4 SHO 

Game tight? 4 SHO 

Haters see me? YES 

Never none less lil homie just call me Mr. Fresh 

Just call me MR. FRESH (4x) 

You wanna know what im about? paper 

The way u put your money let ya mouth make-up 

I make ya lil mama shell break-up 

Im just a lil fresh spouse taker 

ya sleepin on me homie better wake up 

ya girl just spotted me comin outta jacob 

her thoughts are probably that i got my cake up 

my wieghts up i aint gotta play tough 

pimpin thats just how im livin' 

chill in spots u wich u could live in 

sippin' spinnin' women linen 

we grindin' shinin' gripin' winnin' 

names exchanged digits are givin' 

slackin my mack nim slippin' my pimin' 

gonna splurge like this shit is tradition 

motha herbs got the chips 

Now yall you tell me.. 

Is the fitted low? YES 

Money low? NO 

Ice Bright? BRIGHT 

Kicks tight? 4 SHO 

Game tight? 4 SHO 

Haters see me? YES 

Never none less lil homie just call me Mr. Fresh 

Just call me MR. FRESH (4x)