paroles de chanson The Last Song - Terrace Martin feat. Teedra Moses

Thirsty
Terrace Martin
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Compton Kendrick, something splendid
Yeah I'm in this B-I-itch
No I.D., I be a G, exclude every other alphabet
Every time I D.I.P., I need all of my Ruffle chips
Duffle bag full of Frito Lay, it'll be okay
Don't call OJ because I'm on some killer shit
K Dot in his killer whip
K Dot with his killer dime broadcasted on Channel 9
Lay back, let my seat recline
Rolling like 2 miles per hour
I was with success, I don't know where y'all were
You see it's funny how I do these things
Throw 'em in the pond cause these pawns wish they knew this king
Say they word is bond like Double 07's service team
They be head servicing, get off my dick
I lay it down so cold, you would swore that I was half eskimo
In bucket seats below zero
Oh it's me, I'm showing out, I get it crackin'
They never fill my void when I'm absent
Everytime I come through, through, through, through
They be on it so thirsty, thirsty
Hoes they be boppin' so thirsty, thirsty
Haters they be watching so thirsty
Yeah, you too, too, too
You be on it so thirsty, thirsty
Hoes they be boppin' so thirsty, thirsty
Haters they be watching so thirsty
Why you always acting funny
Ain't never got no money
You say you dope, but you's a dummy
Lying to the hoes and your homies
About you're doing this and that
Saying always who ya with
Nigga, you thirsty
Nigga, you's a bitch, bitch, bitch
See all the time that you spending
Runnin' 'round town, pillow talking and hating on me
You need to stop talking bout me
Cause your bitch want a guy like me
And you wanna be me, but you can't can't
And you ain't, ain't, ain't
Man you niggas forever thirsty
Doing suicides in the desert in Albuquerque
I'm a fundraiser for Kanye
Cause I got them good bars, but I ain't selling Hershey's
Emperor like Xerces
Niggas say they players but ain't never had a jersey
King James, I'm a legend way before my thirties
Sent from the heavens, I'm a reverend to you clergies
I swear I do you dirty
Covered in that purple got me feeling like Percy
Harvin, got these rappers starving at my mercy
No disrespect to Terrace Martin
But I run circles round these tracks like Kentucky Derby
You see me with a white bitch, you swear I'm fucking Fergie
Putting money in a safe, look like I'm stuffing a turkey
Plus the way that I be dressing got your girl down south
Like the state that I be repping
She slurps me, til I'm dehydrated
Elated, blowing on this 3-5, faded
New clothes, you never see my Levi's faded
Bitch I'm buzzing like a bee hive, East Side's greatest
Now I'm working with producers
That I never thought that I would work with in the future
Underground cause my verse is in the sewer
Thirsty ass niggas, there's beverages in the cooler
Loser!