Blowin My High
(The university)
(The university)
Bitch, you blowin' my high, she goin' bananas
I'm shippin' out P's to my boy in Atlanta
These bitches say, 2z, you too hard to handle
I keep it a buck when I'm on and off camera (hol' on)
If I call you a bitch, don't take the wrong manners (bitch)
Bitch, I'm from Texas, that's part of my grammar
If it's up then it's up, we ain't signin' no treaty (hol' on)
That little shit you flexin', we give to the needy (fuck that)
We sell lots of green, my niggas sell hard
If rappin' don't work, then come fuck with your boy
I don't pretend to be shit, bitch, this how I was born
I be fuckin' on camera, I shoulda did porn
I remember back then, boy, it was hard
Talkin' 'bout shit that we couldn't afford (ayy)
That's when I turned up in that Honda Accord (ayy)
I got me a little, then wanted some more (ayy)
Got me a little then wanted some more guap (more guap)
Still gettin' money my people don't know 'bout (hol' on)
Momma said, "Baby, you makin' me so proud" (ayy, ayy)
"Book you a show, we gon' come through and show out"
Ayy, ayy, ayy, hol' on
Book you a show we gon' come through and huh-huh
Ayy, ayy, ayy
My little cousin BJ, he love clappin' pistols
Beatin' that pussy, I'm makin' it whistle
Ain't feelin' you niggas, not even a little
Fruity-ass niggas be sweeter than skittles (ayy)
Talkin' real shit when I'm writing these riddles (hol' on)
I'm my own boss, you the man in the middle
My bitch ass fat, I be watchin' it jiggle (boing)
Fat ass wood, bitch, look like a pickle
Could've popped me a chain with the pack money (nigga)
Don't play with me, nigga, go play with your children
I just started gettin' real rap money
It's comin' together, what a wonderful feelin' (hol' on)
Got hoes left to right, they be callin' me daddy
It be hard to pick like some hair when it's nappy (ayy)
Got this shit on my own, and you got it from daddy (ayy)
I send my bitch to the store to get some more baggies (ayy, ayy, ayy)
Nigga trippin', he must be off of the meth
I'm right-handed, but I shoot good with my left
Bitch trippin', she want some Prada and Louis
Little bitch didn't know, I'm a dog like Scooby (grr)
Nigga, I need it in two's, I'm 2z
Thought I was steamin', the way that bitch blew me
Spittin' this shit got me wipin' up loogies
We was little kids, tryna' smoke momma doobies
When some good shit happened, it always got ruined (hol' on)
Wouldn't know how to win if it wasn't for losin' (hol' on)
Didn't have a home, we was always movin' (hol' on)
Didn't have a point, it was always proven (hol' on)
I'm goin' up like I'm jumpin' for tip-off (ayy)
Three, two, one, watch a young nigga lift off (three, two, one)
Pulled down my pants, show my ass, got 'em pissed off
Pulled down my pants, show my ass, got 'em pissed off
Hold on, hold on (ayy)
(The university)
Bitch, you blowin' my high, she goin' bananas
I'm shippin' out P's to my boy in Atlanta
These bitches say, 2z, you too hard to handle
I keep it a buck when I'm on and off camera (hol' on)
If I call you a bitch, don't take the wrong manners (bitch)
Bitch, I'm from Texas, that's part of my grammar
If it's up then it's up, we ain't signin' no treaty (hol' on)
That little shit you flexin', we give to the needy (fuck that)
We sell lots of green, my niggas sell hard
If rappin' don't work, then come fuck with your boy
I don't pretend to be shit, bitch, this how I was born
I be fuckin' on camera, I shoulda did porn
I remember back then, boy, it was hard
Talkin' 'bout shit that we couldn't afford (ayy)
That's when I turned up in that Honda Accord (ayy)
I got me a little, then wanted some more (ayy)
Got me a little then wanted some more guap (more guap)
Still gettin' money my people don't know 'bout (hol' on)
Momma said, "Baby, you makin' me so proud" (ayy, ayy)
"Book you a show, we gon' come through and show out"
Ayy, ayy, ayy, hol' on
Book you a show we gon' come through and huh-huh
Ayy, ayy, ayy
My little cousin BJ, he love clappin' pistols
Beatin' that pussy, I'm makin' it whistle
Ain't feelin' you niggas, not even a little
Fruity-ass niggas be sweeter than skittles (ayy)
Talkin' real shit when I'm writing these riddles (hol' on)
I'm my own boss, you the man in the middle
My bitch ass fat, I be watchin' it jiggle (boing)
Fat ass wood, bitch, look like a pickle
Could've popped me a chain with the pack money (nigga)
Don't play with me, nigga, go play with your children
I just started gettin' real rap money
It's comin' together, what a wonderful feelin' (hol' on)
Got hoes left to right, they be callin' me daddy
It be hard to pick like some hair when it's nappy (ayy)
Got this shit on my own, and you got it from daddy (ayy)
I send my bitch to the store to get some more baggies (ayy, ayy, ayy)
Nigga trippin', he must be off of the meth
I'm right-handed, but I shoot good with my left
Bitch trippin', she want some Prada and Louis
Little bitch didn't know, I'm a dog like Scooby (grr)
Nigga, I need it in two's, I'm 2z
Thought I was steamin', the way that bitch blew me
Spittin' this shit got me wipin' up loogies
We was little kids, tryna' smoke momma doobies
When some good shit happened, it always got ruined (hol' on)
Wouldn't know how to win if it wasn't for losin' (hol' on)
Didn't have a home, we was always movin' (hol' on)
Didn't have a point, it was always proven (hol' on)
I'm goin' up like I'm jumpin' for tip-off (ayy)
Three, two, one, watch a young nigga lift off (three, two, one)
Pulled down my pants, show my ass, got 'em pissed off
Pulled down my pants, show my ass, got 'em pissed off
Hold on, hold on (ayy)
Credits
Writer(s): Angelo Zimmerle
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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