Speak In Code
We speak in code like we tapped up
You ain't my woadie, ain't no dap up
One call to get you packed up, ye
You flying Spirit going back up
OK, I'm trained to go and get my stack up
Brown, red, blue, lime green, whatever
Tunnel vision with the high beams, ye
I sell a porn star pipe dreams
OK, see I get pissed off
And put niggas on white tees
Next to bouquets
Don't care if niggas don't like me
You fuckin' stupid
We young, hungry, and ruthless
You niggas toofless
Never take no sneaky link to no Ruth Chris
It's a smooth miss
Might hit her back like whos this
Yeah, and fuck that hook shit
I ain't trickin' off on no coochie
Fuck that crook shit
I ain't fittin' to be to groupie
I'm on go time
Ain't got no time
You spinnin', that's on your time
And R.I.P. to all these dead faces
Stackin' my Gs legally
Man, fuck the fed cases
God keeping me in his good graces
All of my angels hold me down
I stand on good pavement, ye
Yeah, and fuck that hook shit
Giving my words a better home
Yeah, fuck that book shit
I'm really on my Mr. Christie
Nigga I cook shit
Them bars sound familiar
My nigga, you took shit
Yeah, seeing green when it's go time
Gotta pay me back with interest like a old fine
I wanna hear a booking on my phone line
Tired of always looking for a slow grind
But R.I.P. to all these dead faces
Stackin' my G legally
Man, fuck the fed cases
God keeping me in his good graces
All of my angels hold me down
I stand on good pavement, ye
Yeah, and fuck that hook shit
You ain't my woadie, ain't no dap up
One call to get you packed up, ye
You flying Spirit going back up
OK, I'm trained to go and get my stack up
Brown, red, blue, lime green, whatever
Tunnel vision with the high beams, ye
I sell a porn star pipe dreams
OK, see I get pissed off
And put niggas on white tees
Next to bouquets
Don't care if niggas don't like me
You fuckin' stupid
We young, hungry, and ruthless
You niggas toofless
Never take no sneaky link to no Ruth Chris
It's a smooth miss
Might hit her back like whos this
Yeah, and fuck that hook shit
I ain't trickin' off on no coochie
Fuck that crook shit
I ain't fittin' to be to groupie
I'm on go time
Ain't got no time
You spinnin', that's on your time
And R.I.P. to all these dead faces
Stackin' my Gs legally
Man, fuck the fed cases
God keeping me in his good graces
All of my angels hold me down
I stand on good pavement, ye
Yeah, and fuck that hook shit
Giving my words a better home
Yeah, fuck that book shit
I'm really on my Mr. Christie
Nigga I cook shit
Them bars sound familiar
My nigga, you took shit
Yeah, seeing green when it's go time
Gotta pay me back with interest like a old fine
I wanna hear a booking on my phone line
Tired of always looking for a slow grind
But R.I.P. to all these dead faces
Stackin' my G legally
Man, fuck the fed cases
God keeping me in his good graces
All of my angels hold me down
I stand on good pavement, ye
Yeah, and fuck that hook shit
Credits
Writer(s): J. Kennedy
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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