paroles de chanson




Yeah! Truuuu... Come on!
Exclusive, Don Supply official
Uh, now, now
Chevy Avalanche on 26's, I am a southern misfit
Question is not simplistic, but hot like I'm cooking brisket
Let's talk specifics, logistics before I go ballistic
My goons is cocking biscuits if you on that corny business
As God as witness, with quickness I'm stacking riches bruh
In fitness, ripping paper up like my pencil does
So point your pistols up, I throw them fisticuffs
'Til my fists in cuffs, 'til your chicken love with how I bust
Now she a chicken head with syrup in a Dixie cup
Ringtone rap is dead, so please don't mix me up
I'm alive and well and still got smoke for sale
I go hard like the inmates in the Bexar County Jail
So it's free Live Bola and free Uncle D
Free Derek Battle, I'm the next Master P
With a master plan, getting money, yeah that's the plan
Free Sonny Gunz, now that's the man
Questions been laying low, Questions in high demand
Even my haters on the low, they some private fans
Poppers stop me for pictures dawg, when I'm grocery shopping
Dime pieces in H-E-B, they grocery bopping
Nothing in me stopping, until they panties dropping
You got the good kush? Pass it like you John Stockton
I got God talking through me, speak heavenly
In the El Dorado bumping Maze and Frankie Beverly
Born in the 80's, more like a pimp from the 70's
Take your rappers 'bout ten years to get ahead of me
Hold the wood grain steadily, whistling southern melodies
Seems I'm the number one cause of sudden jealousy
Pathetically y'all diss me under your breath
Fool you're grown, get your mouth from underneath your mama breast
Y'all stink like your mama breath, hating cause I am the best
All I do is ignore it, pull the smoke into my chest, yes!
Drop that ass baby, drop that bass
When they drop that 808 to make the whole place shake
Just drop, hey hey! Just drop, hey hey!
Just drop, hey hey! Just drop, make 'em say
Popping 'til I'm dropping dead, raindrops dropping on your head
Like poppers dropping for the bread or a chopper dropping lead
Just drop, hey hey! Just drop, hey hey!
Just drop, hey hey! Just drop, make 'em say
Shieeet! Haha... Oh wait, hold on man, I'm not done. One more verse
Yo, yeah my trapping practice, sleep practice casually every day
A modern Jed Clampett, I pimp my Ellie Maes
Sipping that Texas tea, keep the cuate next to me
Cinematic like Spielberg was directing me
So no detective lead will ever pan out
You can tell the cops again, they can raid my damn house
Come in with they warrant, won't stop me from blazing out
I don't trap no more, make money with this amazing mouth
From the south, I'm a rebel man, don't adjust your treble man
Signing a record deal is like shaking the devil's hand
Thank God for my lawyer, I am finally free
Started my own label, first artist I signed was me
Collected finder's fees, managed my own career
Riding dirty on 35 with an open beer
You know I open ears man, make you listen in
The southern version of that dude from Detroit, Michigan
Rims attached to Michelins, cherry purple paint job
So much jewelry, you fools thinking I bank robbed
No I just make great songs, I am a smart bloke
Blowing that hard smoke, pull your heart through your throat
I am that dope, quote after quote quoted
I'm doper than a Colombian speedboat loaded
With white and black piano notes man, get it keys?
I'm about to cop a chain that'll cause a deep freeze
But seriously, I don't care about the diamonds
Or the cars, the cribs, I just care about rhyming
With perfect timing, designing the classic LP
Is anyone better at this fam? Dawg, you tell me
I got a bad pen that's murdered some bad men
Kicking these fat rapture bars are a tad thin
Balling like Pac-10, I'm packing a MAC-10
Slapping these wack men, stomp 'em in my black Timbs
Buying a black Benz for all my brown and black friends
Never knew a honky grow up rapping like black men
Talking like Mexicans, is nothing but my next of kin
Nothing better than a dime on her knees and shins
Needles, pins, I eat the ends and poke hoes
And all these wack rappers, fake gangsters and broke hoes
I am loco, like Cocos, better Locos with vocals
Worldwide, global, don't treat me like no local
No ho!



Writer(s): Christine Taylor, Shondrae Crawford, Berrain Ryeisha, Christina Henderson, Shondrae L Crawford


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