Drip Too Much
It's Johnny Cane on the beat bitch
Yeah man, This LowJack
Woo, big drip like the faucet running
Don't hit my line if you ain't talkin' money
All that hatin', it was all for nothin
I still fucked your bitch and had her walkin' funny
Had the drip on her, put that dick on her
Shoot my shot, extend the clip on her
Water on my neck and my wrist, homie
Lil' nigga chill, I'm a big homie
Diamonds on me they dancing
Trap spot like a mansion
Count money with a passion
Designer clothes they fancy
Foreign cars, a nigga motivation
Fast life, a nigga impatient
Plug call, but I hate waiting
Married to the game and I ain't playin
I wanna run it up fast, run up that check and it last
I wanna, make love to the cash
Nun but hundreds in the stash
Three fives of the gas
Roll the shit up out the bag
Pull up on the scene, just drip on em
Cartier frames look good on me
So fly, I don't have to drive
Wet flow signs when I'm drippin' by
I been doin' this for a minute
Acrobats nigga, we flippin
Never personal, this business
Fly guy shit, we did it
I'm just tryna see what's the problem
Got my young niggas with me Dorsey and Guala, we drip on these bitches in dolce & gabbana
Yeah
It's like, with this beat it's like, it kinda give me like
Like a gangsta type, gangsta paradise type vibe you know
Like a, like a gangsta paradise type vibe like
Listen to the saxophone you know what I'm saying
Like just the instruments and shit you know what I'm saying RH3 type shit
Yea
Guala
Ooh ooh ooh
Drip on these bitches in dolce & gabanna
Think bout my family I know they got prouder
Gucci on me I got snakes on my collar
Nah that's too much designer
I sit & I dream about driving maybachs
Count cash & I laugh in the back with Lowjack
Diamonds on my wrist think they wanna match
Bitches on my dick since I started to rap
Took off the top I'm allergic to it
My niggas tight like some virgin pussy
I Can't stop rapping I love the music
My boys in the hood yea they love the coolant
Freon, Guala Young Guala these niggas some peons
Wish I could take Brian back like a refund
I run that check up like I'm mf Deon
I know imma make it I put the whole team on
Drip on yo ship like Titanic or some
Them diamonds gone move like they dancing or some
If feds in the spot I won't panic or nun
Yea, nah I won't panic or none
Been rappin' and shit I just do it for fun
They can't keep it real, these little niggas false
I've been through it all, you know imma ball
Say what they want let them little niggas talk
Crumbs want the code to the vault
Drippin' they trippin', they don't know the cost
Think we the same, not cut from your cloth
Blame it on Guala, bitch it ain't my fault
Found you in the grave, your life, it got lost
Can't talk to the cops, my memory lost
Aye Lowjack
Aye Guala
Let me drip on these niggas real quick
Talk my shit man, yea
Saxophone finna make a nigga fall asleep in this bitch
Haha
Dorsey
Dolce & Gabbana, I said it before got designer from head to my toes
They hate too much, cause we drip too much
Fucked around and left puddles on floors
Got LowJack and Guala
And we would put dollars, on your head if you play us like hoes
Niggas know they ain't with it
And no they don't get it
They ain't never been down that road
I had to go get it the fastest route, I finally found it out
Why niggas be broke, staying at mama house and sleepin' on momma couch
They ain't listen to us, now they hear us out
Now you see what I'm talkin' about
I went from nothin' to somethin' now
Now I'm drippin' like tubs in the house
Ooh Yeah, I'm drippin' like tubs
DJ play our shit and we turn up the club
Nigga I'm ballin', don't play for the Cubs
Diamonds so wet yeah we makin' it flood
Fuck nigga reaching, I'm wishin' he would
I don't need no bitch or no nigga, I'm good
Step on they neck with my motherfuckin' foot
Ain't no hoe in me, let's get that understood
Yeah, it's a glacier on my motherfuckin' wrist
Point me to the stool, cause I am the shit
These niggas broke and you know you can't fix
Ain't talkin' LowJack when I say that I'm lit
Yeah, we got Gucci, we rockin' that Prada
I cop some shit, call it mix match designer
Looking for your bitch but no one can find her
We drip on these bitches in Dolce & Gabbana
Yeah man, This LowJack
Woo, big drip like the faucet running
Don't hit my line if you ain't talkin' money
All that hatin', it was all for nothin
I still fucked your bitch and had her walkin' funny
Had the drip on her, put that dick on her
Shoot my shot, extend the clip on her
Water on my neck and my wrist, homie
Lil' nigga chill, I'm a big homie
Diamonds on me they dancing
Trap spot like a mansion
Count money with a passion
Designer clothes they fancy
Foreign cars, a nigga motivation
Fast life, a nigga impatient
Plug call, but I hate waiting
Married to the game and I ain't playin
I wanna run it up fast, run up that check and it last
I wanna, make love to the cash
Nun but hundreds in the stash
Three fives of the gas
Roll the shit up out the bag
Pull up on the scene, just drip on em
Cartier frames look good on me
So fly, I don't have to drive
Wet flow signs when I'm drippin' by
I been doin' this for a minute
Acrobats nigga, we flippin
Never personal, this business
Fly guy shit, we did it
I'm just tryna see what's the problem
Got my young niggas with me Dorsey and Guala, we drip on these bitches in dolce & gabbana
Yeah
It's like, with this beat it's like, it kinda give me like
Like a gangsta type, gangsta paradise type vibe you know
Like a, like a gangsta paradise type vibe like
Listen to the saxophone you know what I'm saying
Like just the instruments and shit you know what I'm saying RH3 type shit
Yea
Guala
Ooh ooh ooh
Drip on these bitches in dolce & gabanna
Think bout my family I know they got prouder
Gucci on me I got snakes on my collar
Nah that's too much designer
I sit & I dream about driving maybachs
Count cash & I laugh in the back with Lowjack
Diamonds on my wrist think they wanna match
Bitches on my dick since I started to rap
Took off the top I'm allergic to it
My niggas tight like some virgin pussy
I Can't stop rapping I love the music
My boys in the hood yea they love the coolant
Freon, Guala Young Guala these niggas some peons
Wish I could take Brian back like a refund
I run that check up like I'm mf Deon
I know imma make it I put the whole team on
Drip on yo ship like Titanic or some
Them diamonds gone move like they dancing or some
If feds in the spot I won't panic or nun
Yea, nah I won't panic or none
Been rappin' and shit I just do it for fun
They can't keep it real, these little niggas false
I've been through it all, you know imma ball
Say what they want let them little niggas talk
Crumbs want the code to the vault
Drippin' they trippin', they don't know the cost
Think we the same, not cut from your cloth
Blame it on Guala, bitch it ain't my fault
Found you in the grave, your life, it got lost
Can't talk to the cops, my memory lost
Aye Lowjack
Aye Guala
Let me drip on these niggas real quick
Talk my shit man, yea
Saxophone finna make a nigga fall asleep in this bitch
Haha
Dorsey
Dolce & Gabbana, I said it before got designer from head to my toes
They hate too much, cause we drip too much
Fucked around and left puddles on floors
Got LowJack and Guala
And we would put dollars, on your head if you play us like hoes
Niggas know they ain't with it
And no they don't get it
They ain't never been down that road
I had to go get it the fastest route, I finally found it out
Why niggas be broke, staying at mama house and sleepin' on momma couch
They ain't listen to us, now they hear us out
Now you see what I'm talkin' about
I went from nothin' to somethin' now
Now I'm drippin' like tubs in the house
Ooh Yeah, I'm drippin' like tubs
DJ play our shit and we turn up the club
Nigga I'm ballin', don't play for the Cubs
Diamonds so wet yeah we makin' it flood
Fuck nigga reaching, I'm wishin' he would
I don't need no bitch or no nigga, I'm good
Step on they neck with my motherfuckin' foot
Ain't no hoe in me, let's get that understood
Yeah, it's a glacier on my motherfuckin' wrist
Point me to the stool, cause I am the shit
These niggas broke and you know you can't fix
Ain't talkin' LowJack when I say that I'm lit
Yeah, we got Gucci, we rockin' that Prada
I cop some shit, call it mix match designer
Looking for your bitch but no one can find her
We drip on these bitches in Dolce & Gabbana
Credits
Writer(s): Willie Hall, Derek Dorsey
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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