Songtexte

Ah, ah, ah, ah I'm like a lighting bolt that catapult from cloud to cloud When you hit the library, my styles in the rap files I like to shake dice, somethin' like a cee-lo champ I used to smoke weed, man, all up in the Nike camp I crack crab, Hans Solo wit' Aliotos Then watch the waitress get nervous to try and ask me for a photo (bitach) I'm something very bolo, I stand there like a cholo I'm knockin' like it's polo and that's a little cocoa I'm out to stack funds and watch the scratch comin' Easy, relapse, leave ya back sprung (bitch) Brain testaments like I'm the last one (one) Homies love me, fuckin' around and catch somethin' I'm off that real kush, that's grown in Cali We push, like a true boss roll in caddies Chips like granny, goose to get flabby (aye) Eatin' good, it's all in a plan to stay happy I get lost in the weed like a ghost without a blessed vision But still I find my way to do a little caddy dippin' I'm fine-tuned and groomed juss like a mannequin Embody all of it, and treated like a mannequin I get a pad and pen, but it don't matter then Freak, I'm a real rap cat, ho, I'm not a trend I keep the temperature cold up in the hot rental I thought superman was steel until he got crippled I'm not ya Doc Giggles, or ya Willie Wiggles I cross over, dribble, penetratin' to the middle I spin a better whip, milky like a silky spread Man, do it like a baker, get an oven for ya bread My rhymes will penetrate and seep through ya metal Take over, I'ma strait E.Q. the levels Bass and all the treble, ya get all hyphy But it look like somebody stepped on ya Nikes Rollin' wit' the Pisces, homie king nicky (what's up?) The freaks brought the purple and we brought the Phillies Yet, this ain't play pimpin' money I'ma stay gettin' (ah-ah) And network through chirps to get bay-bridgin' (shit) Shit, I really live it, leavin' ya frank fridgit Don't worry 'bout ya digits, or any the punk critics (hell no) It's all blow up, thinkin' like, so what? Right now, bought them automatics like a robot Blow top, La Coste the perfect cuff Fall out, about the mall juss purchased stuff We work the cuts tough every track and whatnot Catch 'em being lazy, sittin' at bus stops (get) Stop in the name of the game It'll come back around if you go against the grain So, don't complain Kill talk bout half the ration I'm full time wit' mine and traffic mashin' P-P-P-Party, K-K-K-Khan Man, walkin' through the Crown Plaza wit' my Bally's on I like the conversation, baby, you can carry on I like that car right there, yea, the cherry one Man, ask Luke Skywalker if the force failed I got a little woozy when I heard the court bail Do it on a latter-way, like you're Sidney Poitier When it's all over kid, put me in the pyramid Jus' like the Pharoe's did or little Darrel did You know, the streetz is like life between the barrel kid You know I rush like a bull at a bullfighter You wanna hang, mane, you gotta pull a all-nighter I like Vo-Tires and wit' the right Wires I smoke too much weed, is what the god tellin' me I'm like a felony mixed wit' a jukebox Then break down the weed, homie, let the flute knock They bump 2Pac, they hold two Glocks And like I said first, man, they bump 2Pac The juice never stops, it's like a soda pop The best drama always comes from the coke block That's what I represent
Writer(s): Andre Lamond Nickatina Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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