The Sit Down
Gang time nigga
Ayy, it ain't shit to talk about
Cashed out on it
I ain't have to walk it down
I got money on deck
I ain't gotta call around
I be fleeing from them
Bitches 'fore I ever toss it out
You tryna turn your body to a faucet, huh?
Tell them labels don't come petty
I come from the block
Nigga you ain't got no paper
You your fucking opp
Told lil' baby weigh her options
You gon' fuck or not?
Yeah, this shit hanging out my pocket
Got it from the opps
Went and cleaned them niggas out
Just bought another mop
If he up that stick then we gon' cut him down
Gotta go re-up again 'cause
I keep running out
Yeah, these niggas rap cap
Hit him in his head and
Knock his hat backwards
I just bought a Cuban cost a scat package
I can't argue with no nigga
Ain't in my tax bracket
We can argue about the prices
I'ma still tax you
Still calling plays like I'm Phil Jackson
Yeah that Palm Angels fit me like a Nike Tech
Cut into a bad bitch
Like tell me what's the price for that
I wouldn't call it cheating
'cause she wrote me, i ain't write her back
Said she wanna fuck me 'cause I like to flex
Hit 'em with that roaster 'cause
I like to stretch
We gon' wipe that nigga nose 'cause he look like he sick nigga
It's forty on my wrist, match my waist
Thirty in that big mac, I'm safe
These blue strips on that Drac'
Twenty on a lawyer, fuck my case
Twenty on me that I just made
I ain't even gotta touch my bank
Ayy, it ain't shit to talk about
Cashed out on it
I ain't have to walk it down
I got money on deck
I ain't gotta call around
I be fleeing from them
Bitches 'fore I ever toss it out
You tryna turn your body to a faucet, huh?
Tell them labels don't come petty
I come from the block
Nigga you ain't got no paper
You your fucking opp
Told lil' baby weigh her options
You gon' fuck or not?
Yeah, this shit hanging out my pocket
Got it from the opps
Went and cleaned them niggas out
Just bought another mop
If he up that stick then we gon' cut him down
Gotta go re-up again 'cause
I keep running out
Yeah, these niggas rap cap
Hit him in his head and
Knock his hat backwards
I just bought a Cuban cost a scat package
I can't argue with no nigga
Ain't in my tax bracket
We can argue about the prices
I'ma still tax you
Still calling plays like I'm Phil Jackson
Yeah that Palm Angels fit me like a Nike Tech
Cut into a bad bitch
Like tell me what's the price for that
I wouldn't call it cheating
'cause she wrote me, i ain't write her back
Said she wanna fuck me 'cause I like to flex
Hit 'em with that roaster 'cause
I like to stretch
We gon' wipe that nigga nose 'cause he look like he sick nigga
It's forty on my wrist, match my waist
Thirty in that big mac, I'm safe
These blue strips on that Drac'
Twenty on a lawyer, fuck my case
Twenty on me that I just made
I ain't even gotta touch my bank
Credits
Writer(s): Chivez Smith, Marcellus Register, Ozro Graham
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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