[Verse 1: Curren$y] Like, lumber jack vest and some Bape sweats '89 Vette still rock the tape deck Suckas ain't livin' they just wasting breath Summers pedal to the metal chasing debt Off track placing bets collecting checks Draggin' that motherfuckin' money net On to the next score and we ain't finish counting yet Fuck it, store it in the floor conceal it in the ceiling Park them cars behind my girl house I tell her she ain't see shit Nigga, we movin' like new apartment units I'm just doin' my thing and hoes drawn to it Bomb fluent in that money talk Glass slippers before she can walk Silver spoons fill her food for thought Cinderella's prissy sisters woulda pissed their pants to kiss her Break it off on sight she been gone all night, but she came back right Tip toeing in the room, tryna not to wake me Slipped 10 grand beneath my pillow and whispered I love you, baby Shit crazy but it make perfect sense Payin me to play her but I shan't say I'mma pimp Just a prolific playa with a gift It's in my nature to put that pressure on simps Come off that paper, you don't know what to do with that shit I can show ya I can grow ya into something much colder We the highed-up title holders, behold us
[Interlude: Curren$y & Freddie Gibbs] Behold us These hoes know us It's like the game chose us (That Nicky Tarantino flow, you know what I'm sayin', nigga?)
[Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs] Yeah, dirty needle to the mainline You play kissy face with yo bitches nigga I tame mine Strap her down with two bricks and straight put that bitch on that train ride If she ain't about that cheddar I give these heffers no hang time Like Billy Hoyle, tryna re-up on them pills and blow Cleaner than Sidney Deane, that white gon jump this shit at [midea before?] Like I ain't come thru on the Lexus GSs and Benz on twenty inch rims before I'm sellin them nothing but killa I feel like P. Miller in Cartier lenses ho You surely gon' die, have you lived before? Blew dope smoke on suede roofs Through Rolex on wood wheel Two hoes next that group deal Nigga cruise through to a cool mill Staying in the streets not indicted C to the E-O my shit drop when I feel like it Just call me Freddie Gordy on them 40s I chamber block that ch-ch-ch-chopper thank the lordy Gotta strip these niggas bare cause Bare Escentuals, couldn't afford it Fuck an album title, call my shit the coldest shit recorded Shoot it smoke it or snort it Rollin dragon now everybody chasing This Gary in the 1980s bitch everybody basing Dinner time and shorty can't eat no books, he flippin' yay now They gave him 100 years cause he Nino Brown of the playground I swear to God my momma always told me it'd be days Like smokin' dope and pourin Henny on my nigga grave site And wonderin' who gonna raise my child if I get sprayed Light your boss up like your poppy and get paid Yung Freddie Kane, nigga Ya, fo' sho', man, Freddie Soprano
[Verse 3: Curren$y & Freddie Gibbs] Spitta and Gibbs, that pistol to your ribs That box Chevy, them 373 gears Chokes out the concrete, shit spinnin' around me Hit that weed, deliver a profound speech Spoke with profound speech, speaking prolifically Smoking on blueberry like Halle had an epiphany 'Bout to boomerang her like Eddie, I Billy Bob if she let me Right on my living room floor 'Cause these monster balls are so heavy Under the living room floor there lies trunk full of gold If shit should ever go low then we will never go broke Liquify the assets, audio dopeboy magic Keep the Bentley console full of weed ashes G Classes, glass feet leather under my ass cheeks Talkin 'bout muscle cars, got a driveway full of athletes Rappin' like half the time I got twenty bands for the half-book Keep it 100 solid, they straight, shook they half-crooks, nigga
[Outro: Freddie Gibbs] Yeah, yeah Sho', fo' sho' Fetti (Yeah) That fettuccini, wha's up?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
