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Mase

Genres: Hip-Hop

Pointing Fingers Lyrics - Mase

[huddy combs] 

Yo, only got twelve bars so let me cut to the chase 

Fuckin' wit' stase, I caught a buck in the face 

I got the set me up, everybody's drinkin' henney 

Kid named timmy actin' friendly 

Grabbed her by offending, sure 

Hurt 'cause his game didn't work 

He didn't know the alchohol's about to get him merc 

He tried to french kiss her 

Yo, that's my man twin sister 

Swung on him, but he threw the toaste in my ear 

I shoulda known he had people posted in here 

So I waited 'till the coast was clear 

And when he walked off, I put four in his rear, yeah, yeah 

 

[stase] 

Yo, hud is the type, give him an inch? he takin' a yard 

'cause see, he the type of cat that be thinkin' he hard 

I told him if he gonna come, he got ta come by eight 

But hud don't never listen what I say 

He always do it his way, instead of our way 

That's why he always caught up in some damn foul play 

Talkin' 'bout I said at nine, he killin' time 

And he ain't checked the time on his wrist 

He probably somewhere lying to a chick 

Talkin' 'bout he rich, no, it ain't right 

How he gon' leave my big brother mase and jell overnight 

He wouldn't sell us out or yell us out 

But messin' wit' hud, we ain't even get to bail him out 

 

[cardan] 

I can't believe this nigga hud tried to blame it on me 

We on the i-95, three jars on my seat 

I'm hopin' cops don't be prejudiced, if not we don't eat 

You know what that mean, shut up hud, keep drivin' the jeep 

We got about ten miles, we don' did ten states 

I shoulda stayed, knowing hud? he gon' gas you to stay 

I'm tellin' hud, yo, pull over we ain't pissed since penn state 

The windows all foggy, plus we got temp plates 

Now hud steady streetin', not listenin' and yappin' 

Smokin' buddah straight from cuba, 'bout to wish this ain't happen 

I ain't tryin' to point no fingers but it's all hud's fault 

If he wasn't speedin' wit' no weed we woulda never got caught 

 

[huddy combs] 

Cardie, when you gon' grow up? you need to get chips 

Stack dough up, switch your flow up, 'cause your single was a donut 

Baby stase, need to learn to stay in the place 

And mase, that's your twin, tell her stay out my face 

And loon, that's my man but he floss too much 

He wanna hang out, 'bout, but he cost too much 

And meeno, that's my dog, but he talk too much 

And blink, fake pretty boy, soft as butt 

Oh damn, if I get touched, we gon' all get touched 

Go against harlem world and we gon' toss you up 

 

[cuda] 

Hey yo, meeno, hey yo, this is cuda man 

There go loon 

Tell him what you told him you was gon' tell him when you see him 

 

[meeno] 

Yeah, yeah, playboy, my man loon 

Went out like a straight buffoon 

For a pretty face, a slim waist, sweet perfume 

Can't believe this shit 

Second week in june, second night in cancun 

Pop cris' by the full moon and the stars is bright 

Pray to God that I catch me a slide tonight 

But of course, loon gets drunk then starts to floss 

Runnin' his yap 'bout the same chick he toss 

Same chick from tour, all I got was jaw 

He's all in love, seen it all before 

Sucka' for love, this is man for a whore 

And until this day, still goin' to war 

 

[loon] 

Hey yo, you just mad 'cause my chick drop dead 

And you mad 'cause I went to cancun got head 

You fed, 'cause I'm doin' it and gettin' more bread 

Why your block hotter than a nuclear warhead 

You more fed 'cause my pockets are stacked up 

While you spend most of your day baggin' your cracks up 

You fat fuck 

Hope you get hit by a mack truck 

And don't come around fourty and front and get tapped up 

Cracked up, can't wait 'till this album is wrapped up 

I'mma take you to a vacant lot, dare you to act up 

So strap up, 'cause I know you don't like me 

But just know you won't get a chance to fight me 

Loon, all out 

Writer: , , , , , ,

Copyright: Atv Music Publishing Llc, Chappell Music, Inc., Sony, Warner