Pookie and Bubbles
She gonna roll me up
And pack me out
Locked up like Attica
Tragic bruh
Weed punching like Pacquiao
Reminiscing days hand me downs
Wearing brothers clothes
No ones
Shit
I'm still fly as hell
And you ain't gotta lie to kick it
We in yo momma kitchen
Shit, boy
We fly as hell
But we fly as hell
Money on the floor
Where it goes
Boy I swear I seen
All these taught high beams
Funny folks only the road I dream
But I know I been
All these eyes on me
But a dollar for the hoe you know I spleek
No ID
No ID
Used to sniff hella coke
Blow my dough
My dro went cold
So now I fiend
Now I fiend
I fiend
Fifty bags for all of the boys nigga
Only for 40
If you copping in bulk though
Cop boof
Sell it for raw dough
Rail something
Sell the hustle
Where you think the name from
Calling plays from the side like I'm Ditka or something
A hustler since youth but wasn't boosting or nothing
Mowing lawns
Making cash
Candy bars for the league
Then a nigga put me on so I put on for the team
Had to muscle up
Cut some niggas off like some sleeves
But I never stress the time
Cause I already don't sleep
A bloody membrane in the basement like it's 1888
Sipped a 40 on the way
So you know that I'll be straight
I slid a shawty I was horny what she doing as of late
Pulled up on her and no longer did I ponder what she's doing
A week later
We don't speak
I'll hit her and I'll say
That it's funny how she's running from this thing that we call fate
But she's calling and she's calling
I will easily elate
But if he ponder how I wander then we right back in this place
I look her
While she looks me in my face
I see hate
And she can't stomach bout the things we can't relate
Used to sniff hella coke
Blow my dough
My dro went cold
So now I fiend
Now I fiend
I fiend
You ain't gotta lie to kick to it
We in yo momma kitchen
Shit, boy
We fly as hell
We fly as hell
Used to sniff hella coke
Blow my dough
My dro went cold
So now I fiend
Now I fiend
I fiend
And pack me out
Locked up like Attica
Tragic bruh
Weed punching like Pacquiao
Reminiscing days hand me downs
Wearing brothers clothes
No ones
Shit
I'm still fly as hell
And you ain't gotta lie to kick it
We in yo momma kitchen
Shit, boy
We fly as hell
But we fly as hell
Money on the floor
Where it goes
Boy I swear I seen
All these taught high beams
Funny folks only the road I dream
But I know I been
All these eyes on me
But a dollar for the hoe you know I spleek
No ID
No ID
Used to sniff hella coke
Blow my dough
My dro went cold
So now I fiend
Now I fiend
I fiend
Fifty bags for all of the boys nigga
Only for 40
If you copping in bulk though
Cop boof
Sell it for raw dough
Rail something
Sell the hustle
Where you think the name from
Calling plays from the side like I'm Ditka or something
A hustler since youth but wasn't boosting or nothing
Mowing lawns
Making cash
Candy bars for the league
Then a nigga put me on so I put on for the team
Had to muscle up
Cut some niggas off like some sleeves
But I never stress the time
Cause I already don't sleep
A bloody membrane in the basement like it's 1888
Sipped a 40 on the way
So you know that I'll be straight
I slid a shawty I was horny what she doing as of late
Pulled up on her and no longer did I ponder what she's doing
A week later
We don't speak
I'll hit her and I'll say
That it's funny how she's running from this thing that we call fate
But she's calling and she's calling
I will easily elate
But if he ponder how I wander then we right back in this place
I look her
While she looks me in my face
I see hate
And she can't stomach bout the things we can't relate
Used to sniff hella coke
Blow my dough
My dro went cold
So now I fiend
Now I fiend
I fiend
You ain't gotta lie to kick to it
We in yo momma kitchen
Shit, boy
We fly as hell
We fly as hell
Used to sniff hella coke
Blow my dough
My dro went cold
So now I fiend
Now I fiend
I fiend
Credits
Writer(s): Jonathan Ray
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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