[Verse 1: Curren$y] 2001 True Blues, some high end denim Cost a lil grip, them motherfuckahs won't bleed on my shoes Excuse me if I'm steppin on your image Wake up and smell this pimpin These bitches gettin dazed and confused But I can show em where to get it And what to do with it I just gotta see how much I fuck with you And if you deserve to live this Jet Life shit you hear about in them songs when you be chillin Smokin somethin strong for the long lost Never got to see the boy grow up, become his own boss It's all good though, I'm doin this for ya'll In that Flying Spur bumpin that Soulja Slim, Give It 2 Em Raw Rockin the fur and the white t-shirt, chinchilla with a lil hood on it Hoes be wantin to feel on it, chill homie She chose a G, nigga, with a bag of that Kill Bill on him
[Hook: Curren$y] I swear this is like when Birdie and them walked in the gym on Above the Rim Bitches noticing Rolex watch, bracelet, frozen limbs They takin pictures we don't pose for them
[Verse 2: Young Roddy] Fuck around, Fuck around like Jimmy Two-Times Props to my girls that act their age and not their shoe-size I used to get it for the low without no coupon The smallest nigga on the block, shawty doo-wop Rule 1: never trust no bitch, get yo loot up True dat, now they on my dick since I grew up Hold on, shawty wanna bone since I blew up I knew it, I been through hell but still I'm coolin With no Nike deal, I do it, a beast in the lane like Pat Ewing I coach em, I school em, they need it I blaze a L for my nigga whooly, I see ya I'm fresh in my adidas, I'm tryna duck the evils I'm tryna dodge the reaper, I'm like Hugo bout his reefer I'm tryna make a killin on this road to the riches Tryna make a profit, blow money in my closet
[Hook]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
