Lucci how you feel? Yeah
Lucci how you feel?
Fuck a nigga talkin bout man
Big ice
Ooh
Iced up records
I'm sick of N keep talkin' bout they steppers, ain't hit shit
I'm sick of all these plain jane ass Rollies , ice my wrist
I' m sick of niggas ??? 'bout me, ??? dropped yo' blick
This lil thot bitch keep tweakin' on my grind, get off my dick
I'm sittin here rappin bout hittin lean, n know I started this shit
Lame ass niggas riding in 'Vettes, like it ain't 'Raris round this bitch
I'm sick as hell, that switch make that FN shoot like chops
Got eighty racks in my Amiris, hit yo town, open up spots
I'm sick as hell, that fetty make that dog strong as the rock
I'm sick as hell, you out here coppin' a plea to all yo opps
I'm sick you wearing them SI's when Hutch got VS's
Lil gang wit me, nickname rubber band, know he stretch shit
They sick as hell I be wearin' all my jewelry when I'm in public
Wood with me, got forty on him, no reach, know we uppin'
I'm sick you out here cuffin' that lil bitch and know she fuckin
I tote thirties and pop Perkies, real street nigga on my cousin
I'm sick of n riding Maybachs with M's on the hood
Big chopstick, two round clips like titties on the wood
Cash my rap check, bought all dope, now I'm really on the run
Just might fuck around, sell two bricks, brought skizzy to the club
I'm sick, you out here acting friendly with niggas killed yo homie
Bust my skydweller and yacht master, I literally killed my Rollie
I'm sick, I brought two hunnid' racks to club and let shit fly
I'm sick, you sellin' them fake percs, a real nigga done died
I'm sick niggas done told, hit that stand and told them lies
Giving yo opinions all on the internet, ain't never did no time
I'm sick, niggas done crashed out doing anything for a bitch
Got a new rose gold Richie on, like Henny stains on my wrist
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
