Yeah It's about 3: 47 in the morning right now I'm in the booth gettin' it in while y'all was under covers (Covers) Where your blankets warm and snug, hah Flock Fresco baby I'm in there like swimwear and out there like mouth gear, ya dig? Yeah
No kiss or huggin' She don't miss her husband Lanez that nigga that your bitch is [?] Yeah we make you pay, makin' in Jamaican shade Or in New York shootin' hoops like Flava Flav Oh ten [?] so low could send a fire soul Watchin' Shauna paint better pictures than Picasso Gettin' money from lil' somethin' to heavyweight The pack is with' it, a bag of bitches in every state See I done came from nothin' To a heavy slate See y'all can hate while me and Freddy laughin' to the bank You're actin' what you ain't We know you're fried jawl Clique full of goons, who do not smile Techila vodka got me higher than your momma's pie I've been the topic since I came out of my momma cryin' And I'ma get this money, makin' sure my papas fine Oh and to end it off, nigga Flocka diedTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
