IMMA DO MY THANG
(T. Hill)
Chorus/Hook:
If your real in the club
Then make it rain,
Stay fresh and pop ya champagne,
Imma do my thang,
Imma do my thang,
Imma do my thang ,
Do my thang,
Imma do my thang,
Imma do my thang

Straight off the top and I’m liver then I ever been
Cats be hatin on me, tryin say I would never win,
But that’s alright cuz that’s one’s that I am better then,
They don’t got that sickness,
they just on that medicine,
So they all irrelevant,
I’m 20 steps ahead of them,
Shine so bright, invented light, – Thomas Edison
No finger prints, or evidence, or trials for the forensics,
DMV, up in the house, yo can I get a witness,
Hill boy for life,
Anybody get the business,
I roll with the Fanatix,
we be shinin on you bitches,
Chillin in the caddy,
seat reclinin on you bitches,
I keep on grindin, till my paper stacked ridiculous,
Come against the click,
Go head cancel Christmas,
Shut down the spot,
if you wonderin how I spits it,
U talks it, we lives, it I gots, it you gets it,
Holla at my peeps, if you got them right digits,

Chorus/Hook
Do my thang, Do my thang, Do my thang, man
Risen to the top, loosin ain’t in my game plan,
Can’t stop, to hot, its insane man,
Tear the club up, and leave the mic flaming,
Ridin through your city, with my swingers still swingin,
Posted in the spot, where them slingers still slingin,
Tryin to get a knot, for them people bring them K’s in,
Nowadays rappers be dried up like a raisin,
When I be blazin,

I’m half man, half amazing,
You ain’t even phasing,
not even close to grazin,
Chevy red velvet cake,
inside mayonnaise man,
When I come through, make all the ballars say damn,
Ya I make them say damn,
Cuz I keep my kicks clean.
And I’ve been on the scene,
since I’ve been like 16,
Ya I gets that grzeen,
Ya that mean them dollars nigga,
If you need a 16,
you can come and holla nigga

Chorus/Hook
I’m so fresh, and I’m so fly,
And I stay high, till the day that I die,
Who am I T-Y the one you don’t try
Flow back to the future, call me Marty McFly,
Crank my beat, and turn my mic up,
I set your party on fire,
Know I get this thing poppin, like the 4th of July,
So if you feel my flow,
throw your hands in the sky,
And if you don’t feel it,
you can still tell I do my,
T-H-A-N-G,
only to hell I send thee,
the hood forever in me,
I’m all about my bengee’s,
What, givin you that raw uncut,
fully loaded strapped up,
Fittin to tear the game up,
Don’t be talkin to big dogs,
when you just a lame pup,
All that flappin at your jaws might get you fucked up,
That’s one for you to grow on,
This blunt for me to blow on,
And that’s the way it’s gonna be from right now and to so on

Chorus/Hook
© Copyright 2010, Tyrone Hill
T J C Communications Publishing (BMI)