Видео
Видео
Создатели
ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
Nickoe
Исполнитель
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Nickoe Whitley
Автор песен
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
Hershey Blakk
Продюсер
Слова
'Til the day I go fed, I'ma get me some bread
I done really got fed up with ****
Ain't the type to go drop me no bag on your head
I'm the type to go head up with **** (Go head up with ****)
Usher, we blowin' up
'Til the day I go fed, I'ma get me some bread
I done really got fed up with ****
Ain't the type to go drop me no bag on your head
I'm the type to go head up with ****
Ain't the type to go wave me no flag, call a truce
I'm the type to go pour me a deuce
Ain't the type
Ain't the type
Ain't the type
I'ma ride for my dog and I know he ain't right
I be gone off the drugs out of mind, out of sight
When I put on my jewelry, it's like they cut on the light
I'ma gone make that car hit that cutter on sight
That's a KOS on it, that mean kill him on sight
In the 392 me and lil' whoopty-woo
He got excellent aim
He don't move when he shoot
Told that bitch that she gotta be the best in the school
She got excellent brain, she know just what to do
Take him a brain
He professional too
He get paid for them bodies, that's what he like to do
Goin' all in, how the fuck can I lose?
I just poured me deuce in a blue Mountain Dew
I used to trap out of apartment
Now I spend a condo, and got a department
I'm with all of that shit, yeah they know what it do
And I been like that here, I ain't got nothin' to prove
I'm not the type, I'm not of them ****
And you won't hear me talkin' 'bout none of them ****
You might hear 'bout me walkin' on one of them ****
I ain't lyin' though
Black Boy the topic they always be lyin' on
These **** gossip like they in the church house
I ain't doin' shit, but tryna put this lil' work out
'Bout to O.D. off drink, tried to get this lil' burp out
Got it all out the mud, ****, we went the dirt route
Still puttin' down
You didn't have a bag, we ain't hurtin' now
Probably sold more chicken than Popeyes
Just ate some spinach, my weight up
Make sure I'm tippin' the waiter
Told that lil' ho I can't wait on her
I don't really like the ho, just like the face on her
I'm still with Cap 'cause I know he gon' face somethin'
You know I'm still onto Cap everyday don't it?
Trap through the day, then we pop out at night, and I'm strikin'
392 growl like some thunder
I drunk an eighth in a day
I just made me a play, and my trap doin' OKC Thunder
I can't make no play if it don't got a comma
Yeah I'm that ****, I'm through being hungry
Yeah that's his bitch, but she do what I want her
I'm not the type, don't be pushin' up on me
Don't be pushin' up on me
I'm pushin' that button
I just put a lil' switch on this Glock 23
Put some za' in the wood
Put my some lean in my cup
Put a **** in the dirt if he playin' with me
I can't answer my phone
Girl, you know how to trap, I be doin' it
Why you trippin'? You know what I'm doin'
In the trap, I'm bisexual, I'm sellin' that girl and that boy
Ayy, get me some money
What the hell is you doin'?
I ain't come to the party
I'm the one sent the party pack
I'm just waitin' for my money back
I can't front the lil' **** know more better come with that
He must think he a runnin' back?
Got the hellcat, now, this bitch shoot like a thunder cat, make a **** do jumpin' jacks
Yeah, he tryna get out of there, we gon' hit his scratch off tryna get out of there
When they pick up the pack tell 'em "Get out of here"
I make one more hit track, ****, we out of here
I got five percent tint on the front and the back when I ride, shit, I barely can see out of here
I walked through the door talkin' 'bout them band
Told 'em "Ayy, I'm just tryna get a B out of here"
Walked in my spot this bitch look like a buffet
He got into hustlin', that's all you can eat out of here
I drink lean out the beer
I play him sweet, got him thinkin' it's Kool-Aid
All these choppers I got ain't no fugue
AR with a hundred round drum
I've been spinnin' with the same clip for two days
I got AR with me
You might think he trippin', he been tryna tie a **** shoe lace
I'ma walk 'em down in some Dolce & Gabbanas, I ain't even tied the shoe lace
Trap through the day, then we pop out at night, and I'm strikin'
392 growl like some thunder
I drunk an eighth in a day
I just made me a play, and my trap doing OKC Thunder
I can't make no play if it don't got a comma
Yeah I'm that ****, I'm through being hungry
Yeah that's his bitch, but she do what I want her
I'm not the type, don't be pushin' up on me
Don't be pushin' up on me
I'm pushin' that button
I just put a lil' switch on this Glock 23
Put some za' in the wood
Put my some lean in my cup
Put a **** in the dirt if he playin' with me
I can't answer my phone
Girl, you know how to trap, I be doin' it
Why you trippin'? You know what I'm doin'
In the trap, I'm bisexual, I'm sellin' that girl and that boy
Ayy, get me some money
What the hell is you doin'?
Trap through the day, then we pop out at night, and I'm strikin'
392 growl like some thunder
Written by: Nickoe Whitley