What's Goin On

Yo, you know that bitch?
Come on, son, you know I know this bitch
You know that bitch
We used to see her at the store every mornin', the 2-4
Crescent?
Exactly, I used to fuck her sister but you ain't know that though
We gon' do tellys upstairs with Judy
Upstairs with Judy! Got 'em

Uh, acknowledge I'm sent
Christian Dior probably my scent (Dior)
Five percent tint, that money dirty, gotta get rinsed
I'm probably in Philly, Auntie block, high, eatin' fish (Down Dauphin)
Diamond my wrist, better than the block pumpin', tryna get rent
Not in my circle? Then you tryna get spent (Spend up)
We're tryna get rich
Pull up knockin' Gladys on niggas
The way we livin' might embarrass you niggas
Might fade to black on you niggas
Depressed faces, they sad, mad I actually did it (Sad)
The homie died, I went and tatted my nigga (Freak)
Pinky ringin', me and four ladies at brunch
Got attitudes like they came on the bus, can't make this up
Cigar smoke lingerin', this gun on me large, it's not medium (Large)
Just got off them papers, he smokin' weed again
They was callin' me bro, catch a shot over that Nautica boat
I'm a wolf, never call me the goat (Never)
They all wanna know

Betcha don't know what's goin' on (What's goin' on)
The streets don't love you like I do
Betcha don't know what's goin' on (What's goin' on)
The streets don't love you like I do
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh-ooh
Y'all don't even know
Betcha don't know

Yeah, my side different
They callin' us when the vibe driftin'
We the wave that got the tides shiftin'
I move weight, never tried liftin'
Never leave it, gotta ride with 'em
You nosey niggas probably tried sniffin'
Real tissue, the bros will wipe your nose
Makin' friends with the money expose all type of foes
I be super fly, these hoes just wipe my clothes
She's a easy target, you 'posed to snipe at those
In the Rolls doin' 60, bumpin' that Nipsey
Shorty with me kind of tiny, one drink and she tipsy
Always think she know somethin', be callin' her gypsy
Told her, "Believe it or not," she callin' me Ripley
Aliens, yeah, the head outta this world
Took you to the Prada store, 'cause I'm proud of you, girl
Betcha don't know, probably 'cause it's too slept on
This that dope that make the block get they two-step on
You'll catch on

Betcha don't know what's goin' on (What's goin' on)
The streets don't love you like I do
Betcha don't know what's goin' on (What's goin' on)
The streets don't love you like I do
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh-ooh



Credits
Writer(s): John David Jackson, Rahni P. Jr. Harris, Francis Ubiera, Daniel Garcia, Michael Kuzoian, David Brewster
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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