Clip vidéo

Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
SPM
SPM
Chant
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Carlos Coy
Carlos Coy
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Carlos Coy
Carlos Coy
Production

Paroles

Now we sleep all day & party all night I'm pickin' up my homey from the what, Northside Tommy's on my shirt & nike's on my shoes We rollin' in the 'burban on them killer 22's Hit the Southside & pick up 2 twins You can take Kelly's booty, I'm a do Kim's Cop's don't like me, not everyone agrees I sag so low that my belts around my knees Bass be boomin' make the girl's asses wiggle My girl's gettin' drunk & she's showin' me her nipple 23rd & Sherman, I stop to get a sack Sunday afternoon, I put Mason on the map Cause the dopeman got 'em in a 6 4 drop Sometimes I'm on elbow, sometimes I'm on chop Dope House Clique & we all got cloud Peace to DJ Lobo & my homey Bill Styles. Cause my posse's is on Broadway... I ride with my nigga, lie for my nigga Smoke fry with my nigga, shine with my nigga I'd die for my nigga, cry for my nigga Stay high with my nigga, my nigga My Nigga. Hangin' with my niggas in the Hillwood Grove Chicken's in my kitchen cookin' in my stove Imagine I've been saggin' ever since I could walk Been beggin' you to listen ever since I could talk Double in my money, even make it triple I've never been a bum, but I'm beggin' for a nickel Still dippin' sticks with a throwed ass bitch Workin' those lips, but I don't mean a kiss Roll with fucking killers, we all got straps Walkin' through my hood with a woodgrain mac Slip 'em in a coma, slangin' on my cut It took alot of work to get my block so crunk. Cause my posse's on Broadway... I eat with my nigga, sleep with my nigga Cook beat with my nigga, Creep with my nigga On feet with my nigga, drink with my nigga Pack heat with my nigga, my nigga My Nigga. Now we back in population, we all got straps Run around town, in trophy trucks & 'lacs The wheels keep turnin' I'm choppin' up the wind I see the girls lookin' they wanna jump in Now the front ends hoppin' & the car begins to dance My 40 ounce bottle, is spillin' on my pants Ridin' too deep, in the 4-door '77 I'm tryin' to count my TV's, I think I got 11 Now we all got love for the '63 Impala Ruby is the short one, claimin' Guatemala Bobby is the mix breed, people think he's funny Behind us in the Cougar & he's hoppin' like a bunny Bird's keep flyin' I feel like a Hawaiian Cause my backyard looks like an exotic island Creepin' Harrisburg, the party broke left I make a U-Turn 'cause I'm Broadway to my death. Cause my posse's on Broadway... I roll with my nigga, smoke with my nigga Fuck hoes with my nigga, blow with my nigga Buy clothes with my nigga, throw with my nigga Cook dough with my nigga, my nigga My Nigga. I chill with my nigga, deal with my nigga Pop pills with my nigga, steal for my nigga I'd kill for my nigga, feel my nigga On wheels with my nigga, my nigga My Nigga. South Park's in the muthafuckin' house ya'll South Park's in the muthafuckin' house South Park's in the muthafuckin' house ya'll [*gunshots*] South Park's in the muthafuckin' house!
Writer(s): Bill Bird, Teddy Mcrae, Henri Woode Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out