Good evening
Town folk
Country folk
City folk
Rednecks colors and Spaniards
And anything in between

[Chorus]
Brand new kicks to match my new outfits
I still roll wit project chicks
And I know I make yall ni**as sick
I move crumbs to bricks
Too fly rides
Wood frame playa leather inside
That's dat high definition tv live
Check the chain, check the wrist, check the buckle

Aye neon, the flyest the freshest the coldest
The smoothest to ever to walk this earth and I knows this
High dats probably from purple puffin and drumsticks
I got enough game to spit this rap through a whole chick
It ain't me actin' 'cause see dis homie I'm choosen
Wrist all bliss because my watch is all slowed and
My life photo shoots see daily I be posin'
I hit the club and git it poppin til its closin
I take you back in the days bugs bunny j's
Low cut fade and them Cartier shades
Pimpin' until I'm dead and gone somewhere in the
Remember what special ed said I got it made
Play games wit me boy you gon need first aid
Im bout money you bout trickin' we ain't on the same page
A honey grant for a feature fresh lets get paid
From head to toe I'm g'd up

[Chorus]

We doin' big stuff rippin' the grain and big trucks
Sippin' champagne with some ducks makin' big bucks
Wow! ain't no limit to my bank account
Wow! look at this check you see dat amount?
My wardrobe go across the globe
That's how it is when you release eight million sold
That's cool if I go gold
'Cause Ima read fo shows on this punkhold
Got the Benz that new range bout to git that bump
Plus got some new shit that you ain't never seen
All alone
Aye don't hate let the playas play
Before I hit you wit dat cake

[Chorus]

I your kicks is crispy and yo fit is spiffy go head
If yo cake is jiffy and you richer den richy go head
If chick is pretty and you run the city go head
If yo pimpin' is strong and yo money is long go head

See all those other dude bedroom
Smell dat Gucci and me playa
Next thing you know they in my bedroom
My name speaks for whats up she give me some heads on
Rubys all in my charm lookin' like a red moona
Head cocked bandana reppin' for the block
Gang cocked guess some coward wanna take my spot
Law will run away from me I guess I'm that hot
Usta be fellen now its co slot-a-lot

[Chorus]

Yes you know who it is
Its yo boy once again ching-a-ling
My homeboy Manny Fresh on the track ya digg
We gon do this one from the end onto the atl man
We gon keep it so fly so fresh and so clean
Ya dig what I'm sayin'
G I b yeah!

Writer : HOWARD BAILEY, BYRON THOMAS
Copyright : Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, SONGS OF UNIVERSAL, INC OBO FRESH IS THE WORD