Текст песни Milk and Honey - FROST
Yeah
Ha
ha
Frost
(Frost)
Jay
Tee
(Jay
Tee)
Baby
Beesh
(Baby
Beesh)
Philly
Blunt
(Philly
Blunt)
Yeah
It's
for
all
them
players
Hustlers
Ballers
And
thugsters
As
a
youngster,
I
never
knew
nada
Smoking
on
cheeba,
and
workin'
on
my
pop's
old
school
Impala
Not
a
scholar,
even
though
I
should
of
hit
the
books
Heart
of
a
savage
stone
crook
with
a
gangsta
look
On
my
face
All
about
the
paper
chase
I
was
laced
as
a
teen
with
a
triple
beam
Trump
tight
I
gambled
all
day
and
night
Pitbull,
cock
fights
And
shootin'
dice
I
had
to
hustle
til
I
pulled
a
muscle
out
my
body
Looked
up
to
Tony
Montana
and
John
Gotti
As
times
changed,
Bigg
Frost
had
to
move
with
'em
Big
bread,
bad
bitches,
I
had
to
groove
with
'em
Six
suits,
well
dressed
And
now
I
press
CDs
for
them
locos
and
them
little
G's
And
if
you
locked
in
the
struggle
when
you
feelin'
this
Get
your
grind
on,
dawg,
all
I'm
sayin'
is
Philly
Blunt
Hustlin'
Ballers
Keep
on
makin'
money
Players
Shotcallers
Get
your
milk
and
honey
Repeat
In
the
game,
tryin'
to
win
it
Represent
it
Squattin'
tough
Windows
tinted
With
two
H.K.'s
I
just
rented
I'm
all
up
in
it
Nathin'
but
riders
roll
around
with
me
They
sell
a
pound
with
me,
even
break
it
down
with
me
(Ya
know)
I
heavy
hustle
For
everything
I'm
earnin'
(Earnin')
It
ain't
no
refunds,
there's
no
return
to
keep
my
tires
Burnin'
I
hit
the
gas,
break
a
yolk
with
ya
But
I
can't
smoke
with
ya,
I
ain't
goin'
broke
with
ya
I
be's
a
grinder
Never
get
behind
the
Punk
police
(Fuck
'em)
Cause
man,
they
might
find
her
What
I
been
makin',
there's
no
mistakin'
I
got
the
fiends
shakin'
It's
big
bread
that
they
breakin'
(That's
right)
I
took
a
ten,
turned
it
into
twenty
(Into
twenty)
Stay
out
the
pen
and
started
stackin'
plenty
down
for
me
Gente
(Gente)
So
holla
if
you
feel
me
(If
you
feel
me)
Player
Jay
Tee,
yo
man,
I'm
in
this
til
they
kill
me
Repeat
Twice
Well
now,
there's
twenty-eight
grams
in
a
zip
of
cocaine
So
player,
don't
trip,
if
I
grip,
the
whole
thang
And
flip
it
once
(What)
And
flip
it
once
(Oooh)
I
split
the
blunts
(What)
I
shoot
the
dices
(Yeah)
Now
I
can
holla
on
the
dollar
when
it
come
to
scrill
And
can
you
feel
See
seven,
nine
to
ten
players
ain't
real
They
wanna
ride,
but
they
slippin'
like
a
transmission
Squares
got
the
rules
missin'
(Squares)
Now
why
they
bullshittin'
Mob
shit,
player
(Mob
shit)
That's
what
I
does
(I
smoke)
Two
phat
bacons
and
I'm
half
way
buzzed
I
sport
Lugz
and
Jordans,
see
I'm
affordin'
cause
my
money's
long
And
one
love
to
my
folks
who
got
the
hustle
on
Range
Rove's
sportin'
super
bad
Kangols
Since
'89,
stackin'
paper,
never
save
hoes
Some
don't
understand
How
I
pop
my
P's
I
throw
it
up
To
them
players
if
you
stack
your
cheese
Repeat
Chours
Til
Fade
1 Outro
2 Somethin' For The Ridas
3 Milk and Honey
4 Turn Into Something
5 The Game Remains The Same
6 Mamacita
7 Life of a G
8 Six Million Ways To Die
9 Club Thugs
10 West Coast Lowrider
11 Ice Cold
12 One Shot
13 That's All a Gansta Needs
14 Promise
15 Choo Choo Train
16 What These G's Is Cookin'
17 Speak On You
Внимание! Не стесняйтесь оставлять отзывы.