Lyrics

Pardon the body, wide body switchin' lanes Difference, me and you are not the same Keep goin', steady duckin' methods Bitch niggas steady throwin' at me Swim through it, goin' for the cheddar Big dog, runnin' through the lettuce Now I got young niggas slangin' K's, no mistake, and they know better Now I got some sons I done raised White t-shirts, rockin' J's Trap house through a brick a day I meant to say, they be servin' J's Probably do a nine day in rocks Clear tech tickin', that's a watch Got that out the work, a cell block Closed cell restrictions, C-C-R Still callin' shots on the yard I don't need a rod, I am the rod Believe in God, not a bodyguard Tatted bad, body, lotta scars Cold heart, got my body hard Mills in the lab when I record M's on the table, got employed Drop somethin', perfect timin' for it To hide my scars from the next life Most likely why I dress nice You tell me you just burned somethin' I'd probably tell you, "that's nice" Maneuver through the trenches Foreign vehicle headlights Scalp be itchin' when thinkin' Many might believe it's head lice Jump out, don't get star-struck Clique out, clip wit' cho car up Big Gates just gave a order While sippin' coffee at Starbucks Vacuum-seal it all up Resin resembles sawdust I'm him, got many nicknames They don't know what to call us Transforms speak less, yeah Big drugs, we that, yeah I bought a loft to chill She couldn't stay 'cause her pussy was eww! Hit from the back, throw it back, on the eeh! Pull her hair, wrap it up in my wrist Get wit' me, got some money to get Private driver keep the wheel in the road X-ray machine trippin' the load Magnetics, speed thermometer slow Out in Illinois grabbin' 'em whole On the block, caught a trick for a pole On your lap, I could hit you wit' dough On your cap, you get hit for a O Big bread, holdin' shop in the snow In the back, catchin' that at the store Send money to my niggas for soap On land, I'ma bless 'em with clothes Pray to God, business never exposed Everybody livin' under the code Real player, I ain't tryna get chose Many call, few only get those Lil raw, tryna soak in your nose Mugged up, kinda show 'em my golds To hide my scars from the next life Most likely why I dress nice You tell me you just burned somethin' I'd probably tell you, "that's nice" Maneuver through the trenches Foreign vehicle headlights Scalp be itchin' when thinkin' Many might believe it's head lice Jump out, don't get star-struck Clique out, clip wit'cho car up Big Gates just gave a order While sippin' coffee at Starbucks Vacuum-seal it all up Resin resembles sawdust I'm him, got many nicknames They don't know what to call us
Writer(s): Kevin Gilyard, Glenda Proby, Samuel Irving Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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