in Cleveland with John James Mike Weaver couldn't handle the press The tickets was ringside, me a preacher With Don, Carol, Tom Jones, Lyndon B. Johnson
the real drank, you niggas need to listen [Hook: w/ Mike Jones ad libs] Ayyyyyeeeee Ayyyyyeeeee Say Flip Let your boy Mike Jones get some of that purple
Mag sippin a barre When I'm in the club I put my hoood up like I'm fixin' my car It's Magno [Hook x2: Mike Jones] Y'all wanna be like Mag but you cant
y'all gon' all lose sleep, when I (MIKE JONES! WHO?) break 'em off somethin, break 'em off somethin (MIKE JONES! WHO? MIKE JONES!) This year you hear
It seems like everybody knows how I get down Know who I be, homie [Obie Trice:] They say Obie Trice gone, look at him Back then I was Mike Jones, who
C:] Yeah, E. Vicious y'knalmtalkinbout? Sweet Jones, Tony Snow All you ole bitch ass niggaz on that ole goofy section of the newspaper Knalmtalkinbout? (Mr
border? well come on baby you want me to cross the border? well come on baby [Boobonic] They call me A.J., A.K.A. Ant Jones and aye, the AK tear bones
the grind I'm in a Benz on Lorenz 24's in the wind My daily routine is pimpin pens I'm Mike Jones who Mike Jones who Mike Jones Swisher House and Body
the drama) Fuck who, fuck you nigga (bring on the drama) Fuck who, fuck you nigga (bring on the drama I ain't barring nan nigga, and his mama) [Mike
knows mr mike row phone he live with mrs jones believe in wrecks yer a fucking mess and winners never quit unlucky night for mr mike cuz you cant cop yer soul mr mike
go Money over bitches and flowers over snitches Money over bitches and flowers over snitches Mr., Mr. Scarface, pistol into yardfish (What the hell is this)? Mr., Mr
Fingers we on the grind I'm in a Benz on Lorenz 24's in the wind My daily routine is pimpin pens I'm Mike Jones -who- Mike Jones -who- Mike Jones Swisher
you want me to cross the border? well come on baby you want me to cross the border? well come on baby (Boobonic) They call me A.J., A.K.A. Ant Jones
ain't in the frame VVS's stay in my chain (bling) they in my ring (There they go) You must of wrote your will already if your sayin our names Hell Rell, Mr
I gotta white, white, white cup You see my white, white, white cup I keep my white, white, white cup (Say, Flip, let your boy Mike Jones) (Get some
through the hood with a rifle Gunnin' niggaz down 'cause they don't got the right clothes Hit the wrong person 'cause we shoot just like hoes First I was blood thirsty, Mr.-Mr