Put You On feat. Fred Money lyrics
JR Writer:
Okay (Dipset) Writer (uh-huh)
JR Writer that is, but you niggaz already know that man (Dipset)
History In The Making
Its a lotta things you niggaz dont know about me man
Let me put you on though man
Verse 1
JR Writer:
Well, I was makin sales at the age of 12
Pack margin, black lark an, case of shells
Never Dave Chappelle, half-bakin
Pack-fakin, I was cash-chasin
Let me put you on
Before a hook and song, I wrote or would perform
I was pushing strong
You niggaz cooked it wrong
And have em hooked for long
I hit the hood wit four em
Before Killa ever said Let me put you on
Flippin, listen baby I was never dumb
Sittin in the lobby like Im waitin for some mail to come
Come see me, believe me, I got it
Girl I whistle chickenhead, but my V is exotic
Plus Im seen in the projects with the top low, gwap dough
Thatll leave more holes in your body than a cuatro
Thats a Maserati papo, stop slow
You dont really know me that well, let me put you on
Hook
JR Writer:
Im known in a couple places but Im new to the rest
This is for them couple places that aint schooled to this vet
Listen closer, Im the greatest, get in tune with the best
JR Writer (whos that)
Your dude in the flesh, let me put you on
Verse 2
JR Writer:
How I used to go to school to class stuntin
Necks bubblin, like come and get a pack buzzen
Ask cousin, brick up in the class oven
Had every other student up in kitchen class buggin
Box cutter, he thinkin I aint stash nuthin
While you was cuttin class nigga, I was class-cuttin
In the schoolyard, like let me catch a cat frontin
Ima slap somen, let me put you on
I hit so much teachers with the lean
The principal had to call a meeting with the dean
But thats just cuz they want a piece of what I seen
Similar to gymnastics, how I keep it on the beam
Huh, had everybody in they classes getting high
Since elementary its been a fact that I am fly
I tell the customers, put the cash up in the sky
Then treat em like a bad comedian
Slap em wit a pie
Ha, all day in the lobby with piff
Still sit in the rail like I gotta be rich
So me and Dana Man got up on some robbery shit
And dragged, frontin niggaz outta they whips
Let me put you on
Hook
Fred Money:
Im known in a couple places but Im new to the rest
This is for them couple places that aint schooled to me yet
You need practice, plus your average
Get in tune with this threat
Fred Money (whos that)
Excuse me, Im next, let me put you on
Verse 3
Fred Money:
Im up next, yes the name is Fred Money (Im up)
Awaitin my spot, so watch how I shot dummy (Stupid)
Blame Writer cuz the swagger brushed off somethin
The closet a jungle, gators and some Red Monkeys
Look how haters love me, bitches get no paper from me
Pull up my sleeve at midnight
Itll turn mid-sunny
Fore Writer was spittin it was robbin or sellin
From a ski mask to a Diplomats skully
I aint frontin Im tellin (tellin)
The straight facts
Decided to quit school cuz I had to wear slacks
Nuthin to do with clippers when I push them wigs back
Which hand did the same shit
Either rap or push packs
Thought about it, I aint hustlin for scraps
Drivin to the top, thats only bringin me flats
Got a pen, wrote a rhyme, J said its crack
Few mixtapes later he like Fred, let me put you on
Hook
JR Writer:
Im known in a couple places but Im new to the rest
This is for them couple places that aint schooled to this vet
Listen closer, Im the greatest, get in tune with the best
JR Writer (whos that)
Your dude in the flesh, let me put you on
