Lyrics On - Dooley

Dooley ain′t on shit
Don't believe that
I call my old niggas when I need straps
From you hoe niggas, I don′t need stress
The beat I put Fire on it so it bleed less
They talking quiet to me
Tell em speak less
I'm the one blessed like a deacon
Ima get high through the weekend
Bad bitch, know she Puerto Rican

See my brother yeah
I think of him
I ain't with him so I gotta pray for him
If they get him, don′t think I can make amends
Gotta hit him, spot him, got him, drop him
Sour all up in my pocket
I don′t want your body
Told shorty pull up
And just give me some knowledge
Cause i'm going dumb
Smoke got me numb
I don′t feel shit
I sit back like I made it, Mike Will shit
They know weed is my fragrance
You smell me coming
They don't know if i′m trapping
Or holding onions
Ha, fuck nigga
That's the same thing
Without a whip I done changed lanes
Now I might get some eats with your main thing
Fresh designer she thinking I slang things
Fresh designer she thinking I slang
But no, baby i′m hot
I ride the beat, they can't get me to stop
They stuck in the cushions, they looking for change
Go as far as it take ain't no limit to range
They′ll never catch me slipping in the rain
The tires is grippy
And nigga i′m drifty
Speed through the puddles of drama
With a blick on my lap
And a whole lotta commas
I'm taking over
Walk in with the bucks like i′m Ilyasova
Day dream bout the rover
I wanna be rocky, my chain on Balboa
That boy is a soldier and nothing can hold him, like Texas
She stressing
Do you love me
She ain't got value next to the money
She let me hit no protection like rugby
HEY, HEY

Dooley ain′t on shit
Don't believe that
I call my old niggas when I need straps
From you hoe niggas, I don′t need stress
The beat I put Fire on it so it bleed less
They talking quiet to me
Tell em speak less
I'm the one blessed like a deacon
Ima get high through the weekend
Bad bitch, know she Puerto Rican

Bet that ya'll think I won′t pop
Till I pull up and splash
Leave him wet like a mop
Wanna know if I trap
Man I get that a lot
Pops told me be quiet and never to talk
To the law, or you niggas who play like you are
But I pull up in car
Your bitch think i′m star
She asked for my heart
But I cannot do it
Picture me losing
They want me to fold, man they sounding retarded
See i'm used to hanging shit up in my closet
I drip like the faucet at 2 in the morning
You niggas is snoring
Wake em up
I sit in the mazda, i′m high as a jet
These niggas is vamps, they biting my next move
But I got them in check, they don't know it′s a chess move
I'm on a run for the money
Palms itching, man I feel like a junkie
I′m on a run for the money
Palms itching man I feel like a
Smoke and dip out with the munchies
We got to the safe
Man he thought we was bluffing or something
We coming for hunnits
My niggas my nigga we coming for hunnits

Dooley ain't on shit
Don't believe that
I call my old niggas when I need straps
From you hoe niggas, I don′t need stress
The beat I put Fire on it so it bleed less
They talking quiet to me
Tell em speak less
I′m the one blessed like a deacon
Ima get high through the weekend
Bad bitch, know she Puerto Rican