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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*}