The Plug Best Friend
(The Plug Best Friend)
Ayy, what you smoking on, bruh? (Strong)
Ayy, what you smoking on, bruh? (OG)
808 Mafia
800 dollar sweatsuit (okay, yeah)
And some motherfucking Timb boots (swag)
I don't fuck with basic hoes, they too simple (I can't do it)
Work a basic bitch like a pimp do (bitch, please)
Now, she ain't selling ass, she driving with the gas
Rolled a superman blunt, half-cooked, half hash
Yo' bitch love to ride with me because my car go really fast
Left her now, she feeling sad, I'm too busy getting cash
She said, "Where the love at?" (What?)
I said, "I don't love back" (who's that?)
Told I keep my love the same place I keep my slugs at
Fuck all that picked up my phone
Where my nigga 'cause at? (Where you at, man?)
Keep a baby bottle like Tommy from the Rugrats
Now, I ain't got no job like Tommy off of Martin (nah)
All we do is smoke weed, fuck, shop, and party
Ghetto ass, bitch, but she swear that she a barbie
4 a.m., she lurkin' in my hotel lobby
Am I about to bend her over?
Shit, probably (mind as well, bruh)
She told me that she got that sloppy (ha-ha, ayy, pull up)
I cooked that bitch like hibachi (ayy, ayy)
Go to Magic City just to eat steak and broccoli (yo), uh
They hatin' but they can't stop me (ha-ha-ha-ha), uh
My side bitches wear Cavalli (uh-huh)
My Mexican girl, I call her hot tamale (ayy)
50 P's are strong in an empty apartment (whoa)
Got married to the streets and Fizzle was the best man (I do)
Went and found the plug and turned him to my best friend
(Now, we best friend, bruh)
I told the plug, "We to death, do us part" (whatever)
Started running play like Patrick Ewing and John Starks (uh-huh)
It's Dolph
Who, me?
Yeah, I'm the plug best friend
That me
Yeah, my best friend
Yeah, that's me
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Real nigga shit, man
That nigga don't see me with this shit, man, he-he
Ayy
(South Memphis Kingpin)
(High Class Street Music 5: The Plug Best Friend)
Ayy, what you smoking on, bruh? (Strong)
Ayy, what you smoking on, bruh? (OG)
808 Mafia
800 dollar sweatsuit (okay, yeah)
And some motherfucking Timb boots (swag)
I don't fuck with basic hoes, they too simple (I can't do it)
Work a basic bitch like a pimp do (bitch, please)
Now, she ain't selling ass, she driving with the gas
Rolled a superman blunt, half-cooked, half hash
Yo' bitch love to ride with me because my car go really fast
Left her now, she feeling sad, I'm too busy getting cash
She said, "Where the love at?" (What?)
I said, "I don't love back" (who's that?)
Told I keep my love the same place I keep my slugs at
Fuck all that picked up my phone
Where my nigga 'cause at? (Where you at, man?)
Keep a baby bottle like Tommy from the Rugrats
Now, I ain't got no job like Tommy off of Martin (nah)
All we do is smoke weed, fuck, shop, and party
Ghetto ass, bitch, but she swear that she a barbie
4 a.m., she lurkin' in my hotel lobby
Am I about to bend her over?
Shit, probably (mind as well, bruh)
She told me that she got that sloppy (ha-ha, ayy, pull up)
I cooked that bitch like hibachi (ayy, ayy)
Go to Magic City just to eat steak and broccoli (yo), uh
They hatin' but they can't stop me (ha-ha-ha-ha), uh
My side bitches wear Cavalli (uh-huh)
My Mexican girl, I call her hot tamale (ayy)
50 P's are strong in an empty apartment (whoa)
Got married to the streets and Fizzle was the best man (I do)
Went and found the plug and turned him to my best friend
(Now, we best friend, bruh)
I told the plug, "We to death, do us part" (whatever)
Started running play like Patrick Ewing and John Starks (uh-huh)
It's Dolph
Who, me?
Yeah, I'm the plug best friend
That me
Yeah, my best friend
Yeah, that's me
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Real nigga shit, man
That nigga don't see me with this shit, man, he-he
Ayy
(South Memphis Kingpin)
(High Class Street Music 5: The Plug Best Friend)
Credits
Writer(s): Adolph Thornton
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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