Artist: Flow Click f/ Black Rob Album: Flow Click Song: Who's Dat Typed by: Wammy Giveaway [Black Rob] Hey, what's up Black Rob (And it's real) Hey, what's up shorty Ain't hurryin', yo, ain't seein' ya son When ya shit comin' out? It'd be like January 30, you know (Ay que linda, preciosa) Yo, I'm sayin' man, you know (???) bad mouthing you, man I be holdin' you down, son You know what I'm sayin' Yeah dog, niggas know how I get down, man, fuck them niggas, man Word up Niggas know [Verse 1: Black Rob] I ain't the dog gettin' dough, frontin' You see me at the club, pa, nobody gotta know nothin' Now they don't still woof me, I'm a stand up cat Then five years later, promoters still bookin' me Not to mention the flavors that jail took me This crack Threw the Rob in the pot, and they tried to cook me But I'm back, cause haters wise, cracks, and jokes I'm a show you that "Like Whoa" shit wasn't a hoax All you hoes still congregatin' Have me all up in the Daily news, look, I'm barely brewed They're never gon' Hear me lose Hear me rumblin' up ya block The Big Benz with the brand new shoes Y'all haters be breathin' slow I do my business All they need to know Out in Cleveland, OH Y'all hoes Wanna leave, then go If you actin' like I put that gun to your head and put your son in the bed And this a wrap Chorus: T-Swoop They be like who's that fella hoppin' up and down the street, and Who's that fella that's bangin' on the beat, and Who's that fella bringin' nothin' but heat, and Who's that Bad Boy's that Who's that fella hoppin' up and down the street, and Who's that fella that's bangin' on the beat, and Who's that fella bringin' nothin' but heat, and Who's that PAC Town's that [T-Swoop] (Verse 2) Hey Black Rob, fuck a job, I love graveyard shift Rollin' in my whip with a cool ounce and a fifth Hey bitch, you need a lift because I'm swift to mash And now she all up in the ride, reachin' for the stash Damn I barely got one foot up in the game And you tryin' to knock my name, tryin' to block my fame I'm from the sunny side, where the gangsta low-low's dwell When at least Every other bitch is bad as hell So don't you play me with that show-and-tell Cause when I tell you to show You best not front Bitch, or you out the door Let them sticky fingers know You fuckin' with a grown-up Fools that don't show love, are fools that I dispose of Hold up, no matter what is goin' down From Cali to N-E-W Jers' and back around Takin' over the game, catchin' fools tryin' to flip it on me I got these motherfuckers trippin' on me (Trippin' on me) Repeat Chorus (Verse 3) They be like Who's that, true fat, fella in that blue cab Back up in the streets where the trues and the brews at I pay dues, just being battered and bruised But now the offense of the strong, buster, we can't lose What I mean When I'm in between the bass and the trebels It's so sweet It's fuckin' up your glucose levels And I'm watchin' for these women that be screamin' Fuck the chips and the whips, they tryin' to get me for my semen But like Antonio Freeman, I'm runnin' and gone More busy/Bizzy than Bone, so much action, I need a clone Now it's on And best believe I'm watchin' for chrome Cause stem cells can't replace a fuckin' bullet to the dome I keep it movin' and movin', collectin' well Off the hook, off the henges while your shit is on the shelf See, ain't no chairs with these eyes that you facin' You goin' down while we get around like circulation Repeat Chorus Twice {*with variations*}