[Peezy]
Right there where the beat like bounce, yeah, I'ma just talk shit right there
You know what I mean?
Stop playin'
Falling in love, we havin' fun
Call all the hoes, we havin' fun
Call all the bros, we havin' fun
I'm throwin' all the ones, we havin' fun
Alright, okay
We finna turn this bitch up
I need twenty strippers, man, I don't wanna see no early acts
All the bros
I need twenty-thousand in ones, we finna turn this bitch up (Ghetto, let's go)
[Peezy]
Twenty hoes in the crib, no hurt legs in here
Just some rich young niggas and some players, and pimps
You can tell a nigga winnin', see it clear as a blimp
You can tell a nigga in it, I ain't tint out the whip
[Peezy]
They say we lost control
We ballin' like a motherfucker, fourth and go
I'm comin' over, will I spend the night? Who knows
Don't talk about your boyfriend to me, he told
I'm chillin', bae, don't put me on the 'Gram, I'm low
My neck full of gold
I was gettin' it off the stove, we was goin' to double-O
I done run out of bowls, now I need a hundred more
Now her pants to the floor, had to run to the store, can't hit it raw
Fast Trackhawk, motor loud, I can't hear the law
Blowin' gas pack, hit it once, can't help but cough
You showin' your ass crack out here, boy, you showin' off
Taught him how to get a bag out here, P, you showed 'em all
Keep playin', boy, that chopstick gon' blow a nigga shoulder up
I'm racin' in the SS, finna tear the motor up
I'm ghetto, I done passed every test, ran through the halls
House full of bad shit, goin' hard, yeah
[Peezy]
Twenty hoes in the crib, no hurt legs in here
Just some rich young niggas and some players, and pimps
You can tell a nigga winnin', see it clear as a blimp
You can tell a nigga in it, I ain't tint out the whip
Twenty hoes in the crib, no hurt legs in here
Just some rich young niggas and some players, and pimps
You can tell a nigga winnin', see it clear as a blimp
You can tell a nigga in it, I ain't tint out the whip
[Cash Kidd]
Yeah, my bitch a ho, yo' broke ass, go get a fuckin' life, huh
Them little ass pointers on you like a butter knife
Bitch think she stayin' another night just 'cause she fuck me right
I'm at the crib, reading and writing like this study night
I been schemin', my bitches havin' money fights
Wanna make a killing? Dial me like that Chucky guy
Only reason I'm fuckin' with this slut of mine
'Cause my address got wore out like it's summer time
I ain't tryna flex, you lil' niggas not a threat
Gucci fit ruin my change more than a laundromat
Twenty on me, finna throw it all, ain't gotta try to stretch
DNG on me, niggas thinkin' I'm from Pontiac, huh
Need a big booty bitch to make my night better, huh
I make time to stunt on niggas in my tight schedule, huh
I'm at Hutch, gettin' fitted for an ice bezel, huh
Switch on my nigga hip, but he ain't bisexual, yep
I'm froze, all my hoes keep tellin' me I got the hoes
Hatin' nigga sick, so we wiped his nose
Well, no comment, need a pot of gold
Yeah, bitch, them boys here, huh
Hold my wrist up in the club, they think the boy's here, huh
Caught his bitch with knee pads, he think it's sports gear, huh
Yeah, the Colt was forty-five, but it ain't malt beer
Three, four bitches with me, feel like Paul Pierce
[Peezy]
Twenty hoes in the crib, no hurt legs in here
Just some rich young niggas and some players, and pimps
You can tell a nigga winnin', see it clear as a blimp
You can tell a nigga in it, I ain't tint out the whip
Twenty hoes in the crib, no hurt legs in here
Just some rich young niggas and some players, and pimps
You can tell a nigga winnin', see it clear as a blimp
You can tell a nigga in it, I ain't tint out the whip
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
