Stole My Chicken

Passion Playas

He got what's coming, that boy thought I was dummy
Running with my chicken mean you running with my money
Get the tools, make it crank, bitch, I'm riding in that tank
I ain't Waka Flocka, but a nigga go hard up in that paint
Sipping Texas tea with my G's, balling off that drink
Evil shawty on my side, bet her face will make you faint
She ain't got to hesitate, if it's up, she make it pump
Make it loud, click, clack, bow, boy, your time is up
It's the playa, playa creep, Reebox soldiers on my feet
Passion Playas eight deep, but tonight I'm 2D
Money right beside me, Houston to the Ville, nigga
Coming for my chicken, bitch, I'm trying to make a mill, nigga

Let me tell you about these niggas trying to run off with the phonk
Want to act like they some P's, but we knowing they some punks
We gon' smoke them like some trees, lay your pack up in the blunt
Trying to run off with my chicken, we gon' lock him in the trunk
We got him running, no fronting when them playas coming
We getting hundreds, Almighty got them birds clucking
Can't fuck with Bumpin', might beat ya like you stole something
You got your eyes on my chicken, now the pulse thumping

Kings of the streets, put you in the backseat
That's the hoe spot, Glock cocked, no shoes on your feet
Just some guns to your head, I'm whispering, "Where my fucking bread?"
Got to chop it up with the plugs, they the ones who kept me fed
I done throwed niggas work, and they never paid me back
Sold a curse a bad look, got him slacking on they back
Got to watch them when they looking out for their own ass
Better protect your fucking castle when you getting that cash fast

Passion Playas



Credits
Writer(s): Derrick Hill, Almighty Bumpin, Slim Guerilla
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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