Lyrics Hoodrich - Pet Zebra

Ayeee

In the kitchen mixing up slow grinding with pots and pans

Oh you want that real shit?
Fish scale white bricks
All these bitches on a nigga dick
They like that hood shit
Cabbage pockets collard greens
Baby I got hood rich
Already A Town stomped it
Anymore you'll miss ya flip
When I bounce out the trap
My clothes smell like hella grams
That's ya mans?
Loose Cann?
We spin round like ceiling fans
Couple bands in my hands
When I do my little dance
In the kitchen mixing up
Slow grinding with pots and pans

Assed out
Me, I'm cashed out
Oh you want to shop
So tell me what cha bag bout
Trynna come up fast
Stashing stacks around the house
Told my baby momma chill
We just trapping getting bills
Man I hate the game
It ain't the same when I was younger
Till they put me 6ft under
Imma dirty mother fucker
Don't tell me how I'm fake
Cause I ain't heard from you in decades
Test me catch these clips
Cause I'm balling like a Temp Fade
No I can not lie
I like nice clothes and jewelry
Stroking on this dick
She move her hands like Blind Fury
I may not be the nicest
But baby I'm so priceless
My new chain look like Iceland
I knock it out like Tyson

Oh you want that real shit
Fish scale white bricks
All these bitches on a nigga dick
They like that hood shit
Cabbage pockets collard greens
Baby I got hood rich
Already A Town stomped it
Anymore you'll miss ya flip
When I bounce out the trap
My clothes smell like hella grams
That's ya mans
Loose Cann
We spin round like ceiling fans
Couple bands in my hands
When I do my little dance
In the kitchen mixing up
Slow grinding with pots and pans

I can count it on my hands
All the times I'm disrespected
But the same little niggas
All in my requested messages
The money got the best of me
I fell in love with recipes
I'm sipping on this syrup
And I'm smoking on this OG
Damn my little baby bad
She count it when I get the bands
I'm a set the newest trends
Zebra like to get it in
Niggas flex for clout
On the net but they broke
You a joke
For the hoes
Niggas need to up they dough

Oh you want that real shit
Fish scale white bricks
All these bitches on a nigga dick
They like that hood shit
Cabbage pockets collard greens
Baby I got hood rich
Already A Town stomped it
Anymore you'll miss ya flip
When I bounce out the trap
My clothes smell like hella grams
That's ya mans
Loose Cann
We spin round like ceiling fans
Couple bands in my hands
When I do my little dance
In the kitchen mixing up
Slow grinding with pots and pans