Текст песни: Young Jeezy - Mr. 17.5



[Verse 1]


New shoes on the range rove, good with mine (vrrooomm)


You motherfuckers act like I ain`t supposed to shine


I ain`t the one, definitely not the two (nope)


One in the chamber don`t make me aim it at you (blaow)


The young Bob Barker, the price is right


If it`s C.O.D. you can get `em tonight


Put the fishscale on the scale


Ya boy went postal, all he do is check mail (hahaaaa)


Low key, under the radar


Triple black vet, yeah I call it the stealth


No currency machine, I could count it myself


Almost done, another quarter million in ones


Thunder storm in the body-tap, look what I`ve done


Chunk change, I make it rain for fun (wassup)





[Chorus]


Snow man, get cha hands up high


It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5


I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots


Snow man, get cha hands up high


It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5


I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots





[Verse 2]


I get the bars out of the back of my mind


That`s how, I reminisce like Mary J


Even in the drought, the boy kept that yay


A hundred percent certain, Snowman was workin`


You can blame my plug or my clientele (why?)


I`m addicted to that new car smell


White cookies in a plastic bag


New shoes on the coupe with the paper tag


Whole life flash right before your eyes


See the state troopers and get butterflies


Got a thing for them Heckler and Koches


A minute 14 and Rolex watches


Somewhere in the back of my secret deranged brain


I get a rush when I talk that `cane


Get money, nigga fuck them haters


All we fear is the discovery and Inditement papers (wassup)





[Chorus]


Snow man, get cha hands up high


It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5


I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots


Snow man, get cha hands up high


It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5


I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots





[Verse 3]


I`m a grown ass man, I stand on my own two


200,000 cash, I`m buying my own team


Right to your front door, operation so sweet


I like little dude who keeps his money so neat


But I still bury a nigga


Put The Mask on, Jim Carey a nigga (blaow)


Suede ends in the Chevy, got me feelin` akward


Careful with the sweets, dont burn my seats


You could live your whole life and not come close


Guess that`s why these rap niggas take notes


Rectite my adlibs, borrow my quotes


Make me Ihop a nigga, serve them with the toast


Next, they be dressin` like me


But back in `93, they wasn`t stressin` like me (wassup)





[Chorus]


Snow man, get cha hands up high


It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5


I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots


Snow man, get cha hands up high


It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5


I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots
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[Verse 1]


New shoes on the range rove, good with mine (vrrooomm)


You motherfuckers act like I ain`t supposed to shine


I ain`t the one, definitely not the two (nope)


One in the chamber don`t make me aim it at you (blaow)


The young Bob Barker, the price is right


If it`s C.O.D. you can get `em tonight


Put the fishscale on the scale


Ya boy went postal, all he do is check mail (hahaaaa)


Low key, under the radar


Triple black vet, yeah I call it the stealth


No currency machine, I could count it myself


Almost done, another quarter million in ones


Thunder storm in the body-tap, look what I`ve done


Chunk change, I make it rain for fun (wassup)





[Chorus]


Snow man, get cha hands up high


It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5


I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots


Snow man, get cha hands up high


It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5


I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots





[Verse 2]


I get the bars out of the back of my mind


That`s how, I reminisce like Mary J


Even in the drought, the boy kept that yay


A hundred percent certain, Snowman was workin`


You can blame my plug or my clientele (why?)


I`m addicted to that new car smell


White cookies in a plastic bag


New shoes on the coupe with the paper tag


Whole life flash right before your eyes


See the state troopers and get butterflies


Got a thing for them Heckler and Koches


A minute 14 and Rolex watches


Somewhere in the back of my secret deranged brain


I get a rush when I talk that `cane


Get money, nigga fuck them haters


All we fear is the discovery and Inditement papers (wassup)





[Chorus]


Snow man, get cha hands up high


It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5


I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots


Snow man, get cha hands up high


It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5


I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots





[Verse 3]


I`m a grown ass man, I stand on my own two


200,000 cash, I`m buying my own team


Right to your front door, operation so sweet


I like little dude who keeps his money so neat


But I still bury a nigga


Put The Mask on, Jim Carey a nigga (blaow)


Suede ends in the Chevy, got me feelin` akward


Careful with the sweets, dont burn my seats


You could live your whole life and not come close


Guess that`s why these rap niggas take notes


Rectite my adlibs, borrow my quotes


Make me Ihop a nigga, serve them with the toast


Next, they be dressin` like me


But back in `93, they wasn`t stressin` like me (wassup)





[Chorus]


Snow man, get cha hands up high


It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5


I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots


Snow man, get cha hands up high


It`s ya boy, Mr. 17-5


I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots
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