Tyson (feat. Trae On the Way)
Uh huh
Hold on, yeah
What I say?
Okay, I'm slappin', smashin', mobbin' down the street
I put this bitch in cruise and I drive with my knee
Like Vic, How you slide clean on them beats and the words that you say
Bring you paper as you speak
Like shit, no flash for my pic
The way I stay smokin', really smokin' by a zip
Shiiiii
And maybe I'll sip, Patron or the Henny I don't know which one to pick
Pull up real ghost like a Wraith
Could've been in white but that just ain't the case
Tell me how fast I could break down this 8th
Ask me about my wood dance, send you out of fuckin' space
Married to the money cause the money don't cheat
I got two fists, boop, bing, get your ass beat
Boxin' up the stu, I feel like Tyson when I'm mad
Hit him with a right, left up he on his ass
Ugh, Bustdown-OTW
Hold on
Left rollie on his ass shit I'm gone
Turn that boy to E.T. phone home
You got a headache cause you smoke a home grown
Me and Vic got good gas, treat that shit just like cologne
Known bullshit is what I'm on
Look who you talkin' to, you need to watch your tone
I ain't Quavo, I ain't pickin' up the phone
My bro ain't Kurt, but he gettin' past gone
Outta there more then one, ain't nobody like me
Real cold, my shawty sweet we ice tea
I don't really think you wanna fight me
I'm feelin' like Mike Tice with the one, two, three, four
Ion give a fuck, kick it yo door
Raise it up, then we drop it to the floor
Steady with my brother smokin' dro
They talkin' like they do, but they don't really know
They don't know shit about me
Can't see through me, they don't know who I be
Me and Vic, some big dawgs, they some fleas
I had a bracelet on my ankle, now I'm free, fuck you mean
Thanks for watching
Hold on, yeah
What I say?
Okay, I'm slappin', smashin', mobbin' down the street
I put this bitch in cruise and I drive with my knee
Like Vic, How you slide clean on them beats and the words that you say
Bring you paper as you speak
Like shit, no flash for my pic
The way I stay smokin', really smokin' by a zip
Shiiiii
And maybe I'll sip, Patron or the Henny I don't know which one to pick
Pull up real ghost like a Wraith
Could've been in white but that just ain't the case
Tell me how fast I could break down this 8th
Ask me about my wood dance, send you out of fuckin' space
Married to the money cause the money don't cheat
I got two fists, boop, bing, get your ass beat
Boxin' up the stu, I feel like Tyson when I'm mad
Hit him with a right, left up he on his ass
Ugh, Bustdown-OTW
Hold on
Left rollie on his ass shit I'm gone
Turn that boy to E.T. phone home
You got a headache cause you smoke a home grown
Me and Vic got good gas, treat that shit just like cologne
Known bullshit is what I'm on
Look who you talkin' to, you need to watch your tone
I ain't Quavo, I ain't pickin' up the phone
My bro ain't Kurt, but he gettin' past gone
Outta there more then one, ain't nobody like me
Real cold, my shawty sweet we ice tea
I don't really think you wanna fight me
I'm feelin' like Mike Tice with the one, two, three, four
Ion give a fuck, kick it yo door
Raise it up, then we drop it to the floor
Steady with my brother smokin' dro
They talkin' like they do, but they don't really know
They don't know shit about me
Can't see through me, they don't know who I be
Me and Vic, some big dawgs, they some fleas
I had a bracelet on my ankle, now I'm free, fuck you mean
Thanks for watching
Credits
Writer(s): Bustdown Vic
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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