Shut Up Songtext
von Pac Div

Knucklehead niggas with the bass in the trunk
Bout to bubble like peroxide, layin′ in the cut
Grown ass kids who don't wanna grow up
But we′ll have to do it soon cause our money's grown up
But even if I had five mill' in the bank
I′mma still put a five dollar bill in the tank
What you think, I′mma change since I got a new Range?
Fuck that, ante up man, who in here got some change?
And we lookin' for the dames with the tight stretch pants
And a big booty stance with no particular plans
They all like to party and so do me and my mans
So we pick the destination and head straight to the sand
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! 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 you keep your mouth closed
And don't you think about touchin′ my stereo

Hey yo yo, hey yo yo
Hop up in my bucket baby, let's swing an episode
Hit the mall, trick it off, see how far your credit go
Daddy need them sweaters low, with the pole in front of it
Vote me 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 Roscoe's for the 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, see them in, knock 'em down
See them twin woofers beatin′ hard, time to quiet down
Let me play the pilot now, listen to that vibrant sound
I was holy moly when Smokey was singin' Shop Around
See my collar poppin′ now, Neiman Marcus shoppin' 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


Just keep your eyes on the road and
You better 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
You better keep your mouth closed
And don't you think about touchin′ my stereo

Nah, there ain't another nigga flyer
My bitch so cold, you could promote her on a flyer
These ugly chicks hatin′ when I'm rollin' up beside her
Bendin′ them corners ′til the curb kiss the tires
These herb niggas liars, that's word to the choir
I be with my nigga Dom in Leimert smokin′ fire
Where's my lighter? Master kush in the cypher
In that puff pass motion but I ain′t touchin' your saliva
You juicy mouthed it, chickens cluckin′ in them hoochie outfits
Swift don't just doctor tracks up, he Doogie Howser
Don't talk to me ′bout fashion dog, you be wildin′
You still think Coogie's stylish, who′s his stylist?
I'm usually loungin′, puffin' on some ganja
Bumpin′ some Sinatra, cuttin' up some pasta
Smackin' with my elbows on the table, eatin′ lobsters
Napkin over the collar case I′m sloppy with the salsa
Man shut up

Just keep your eyes on the road and
You better 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
You better keep your mouth closed
And don't you think about touchin′ my stereo