Chop Suey
Turn it up, yeah, like that, okay that's perfect
Let's go let's go, I'm going gas on you niggas
I ain't got no brakes, it's been my time
It's been my time no clock she wanna eat on my cock
Throw me a pass I'm run through the block
DJ screw what I pour in the pop
Fish scale what I cook in the pot
Jay Z I'm running the rock
Stitch lips when it come to the cops
Whole clip when it come to an op
One stain got my pocket with gwop
Self made when I came in this game
Fucking shit now they saying my name
No homo I ain't mean it like that
Molly's water got me geeking like that
Runtz smoke what you smell on my clothes
Big B's when I'm striking a pose
Big Dick what I put down her throat
These switches not regular poles
All my niggas yeah they trained to go
All my niggas yeah they trained to go
Yeah, rolling some gas, pour up some mud
Yeah, we thugging off in the club
Rolling some gas, pouring some mud
Yeah, bitch we thugging the club
I got the juice like I'm Pac
I got the switch on the clock
Yeah, yeah,I got that wock in my pop
Yeah, this shit don't stop
Yeah, yeah, I got the snow and it rocks
Yeah, I got the kush on the block
Yeah, I got your bitch on my jock
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I don't catch feelings, I catch flights
Cook shit fry rice, chop suey
I don't catch feelings, I catch flights
Cook shit, fry rice, chop suey
Shit, splash, let's go, let's get it
Okay, it's the suicide the way the door on wraith open
Cookie in my blunt
Presidential what Im blowing
It's the middle of the summer in my city and it's snowing
80's baby looking cocaine rich
Amigo got teenage numbers on cocaine bricks at
17 learn how to cook my own work
When I was busy on the block
My bitch did my own work
Yeah, yeah, yeah, niggas get jammed
Turn rats like Tekashi
Stomp a nigga out in my all white huaraches
Lock me in a booth with a bag of biscotti
Talking my shit like I'm supposed to
Niggas only gangsta on protools
Ain't going back and forth with you hoe niggas
I came in this bitch so lit, yeah
I fuck with the drillers with sticks, yeah
Bro got a switch on the clock, yeah
Mr. Clean with the mop, yeah
I'm a junkie with the snot, yeah
Put the dick up in the twat, yeah
I'm just a lover boy
I think I'm Drake
You turn me on the way you hold that k
My gangsta booth keep it 38
My gangsta booth keep it 38, yeah
I got the juice like I'm Pac
I got the switch on the clock
Yeah, yeah, I got that wok in my pop
Yeah, this shit don't stop
Yeah, yeah, I got the snow in that rock
Yeah, I got that kush on the block
Yeah, I got your bitch on my block
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I don't catch feelings, I catch fights
Cook shit, fry rice, chop soup
I don't catch feelings, I catch fights
Cook shit, fry rice, chop soup
I don't catch feelings, I catch fights
Cook shit, fry rice, chop soup
I don't catch feelings, I catch fights
Cook shit, fry rice, chop soup
Let's go let's go, I'm going gas on you niggas
I ain't got no brakes, it's been my time
It's been my time no clock she wanna eat on my cock
Throw me a pass I'm run through the block
DJ screw what I pour in the pop
Fish scale what I cook in the pot
Jay Z I'm running the rock
Stitch lips when it come to the cops
Whole clip when it come to an op
One stain got my pocket with gwop
Self made when I came in this game
Fucking shit now they saying my name
No homo I ain't mean it like that
Molly's water got me geeking like that
Runtz smoke what you smell on my clothes
Big B's when I'm striking a pose
Big Dick what I put down her throat
These switches not regular poles
All my niggas yeah they trained to go
All my niggas yeah they trained to go
Yeah, rolling some gas, pour up some mud
Yeah, we thugging off in the club
Rolling some gas, pouring some mud
Yeah, bitch we thugging the club
I got the juice like I'm Pac
I got the switch on the clock
Yeah, yeah,I got that wock in my pop
Yeah, this shit don't stop
Yeah, yeah, I got the snow and it rocks
Yeah, I got the kush on the block
Yeah, I got your bitch on my jock
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I don't catch feelings, I catch flights
Cook shit fry rice, chop suey
I don't catch feelings, I catch flights
Cook shit, fry rice, chop suey
Shit, splash, let's go, let's get it
Okay, it's the suicide the way the door on wraith open
Cookie in my blunt
Presidential what Im blowing
It's the middle of the summer in my city and it's snowing
80's baby looking cocaine rich
Amigo got teenage numbers on cocaine bricks at
17 learn how to cook my own work
When I was busy on the block
My bitch did my own work
Yeah, yeah, yeah, niggas get jammed
Turn rats like Tekashi
Stomp a nigga out in my all white huaraches
Lock me in a booth with a bag of biscotti
Talking my shit like I'm supposed to
Niggas only gangsta on protools
Ain't going back and forth with you hoe niggas
I came in this bitch so lit, yeah
I fuck with the drillers with sticks, yeah
Bro got a switch on the clock, yeah
Mr. Clean with the mop, yeah
I'm a junkie with the snot, yeah
Put the dick up in the twat, yeah
I'm just a lover boy
I think I'm Drake
You turn me on the way you hold that k
My gangsta booth keep it 38
My gangsta booth keep it 38, yeah
I got the juice like I'm Pac
I got the switch on the clock
Yeah, yeah, I got that wok in my pop
Yeah, this shit don't stop
Yeah, yeah, I got the snow in that rock
Yeah, I got that kush on the block
Yeah, I got your bitch on my block
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I don't catch feelings, I catch fights
Cook shit, fry rice, chop soup
I don't catch feelings, I catch fights
Cook shit, fry rice, chop soup
I don't catch feelings, I catch fights
Cook shit, fry rice, chop soup
I don't catch feelings, I catch fights
Cook shit, fry rice, chop soup
Credits
Writer(s): Calvin Keith Caldwell
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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