Comin Hard Lyrics - Singles - Mr. Pookie

[mr. pookie] 

Now uh, which way he came, left or right, you can squash that 

I came from all directions playa, can you top that? 

I got em waitin mr. rippla, how you droppin it? 

See, i'ma drop it wit a cd full of major hits 

I got tha switch when it's click, I'm in tha zone fool 

And plus you know that I'm gon rip it fo tha song through 

It's time to shine, time to polish off my game right 

Krunk like it's game night or a roy jones title fight 

Wit combinations that can spark up in a blaze fire 

I'm gettin paid while you bustas goin haywire 

So wha you say now? I brought tha ruckus 

Testin tha bustas, got sumthin to say but no they love us 

Indeed, I bring tha trees when it's time to choke 

Ready to beat up on tha foes at tha end of tha show 

This time you know, my crooks stay on top of they game 

And when you least expect it thea's anotha hook to tha brain 

Chorus(juiell) 

Balla, if you a balla tell em how you comin hard 

Hustla, if you a hustla, baby hustle like a superstar 

Playa, cause we some playaz and you know jus who we are 

Crooksta, if you a crook tell em how ya comin hard 

[mr. pookie] 

Right back at cha, awww hell naw I wont ease up 

Dont got me krunk now, picture me wit cheese stuffed 

In my pockets, I bout to get it on a paper rage 

Gotta make my paper change, increase my paper weight 

Set tha stage, ain't got no killaz on tha payroll 

Only my crook playaz wit me from tha get go 

Let it be known I'm from dallas, that's in texas 

Bring it on, as if you think you can outflex us 

Betta bring yo best, cause I'm runnin round these fools 

I been waitin for this very day, straight up clownin fools 

I'll face him, who, you, wha, that's to all my foes 

See we gunnin when we runnin playa, knockin down closed doors 

And uh, down to strike a pose when I finish rippin on these figgaz 

Makin sure my presence felt, boy I been bound to come up wit cha 

It's tha mr. comin hard on em, bring tha track, i'ma bomb on em 

Kevin a put tha guard on em, i'ma bout to storm on em 

Chorus 

[mr. pookie] 

Now you see in a change of clothes, still creased down 

Got my ice on my fingers and struttin hard through tha town 

And I cant forget my crown, flip tha brim like a pimp 

Slide my fingers across, that's to make sure of tha fit 

Got tha ladies checkin this and my hair whipped up 

And a sack in my pocket, french connection in tha cut 

Valley ruff on tha mic, when I'm chillin like this 

That's when I'm ballin wit my crooks feelin tipsy and shit 

I'm comin dizzy wit hits, and cant nobody fade tha g's 

I'm as witable, hitable no he strappin on these 3's 

You can try, you wont succeed, I'm to playa like, playboy 

I know some tru cats that'll whoop you and yo homeboys 

Me and pookie solo johnson in tha old school 

Clubbin wit no rules, peepin tha foes 2 

Eatin some soul food and now we choosin 

It's mr. pookie neighborhood watchin, crooks is movin 

Chorus