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letra de dawg ass chicken - chicken p

[intro]
yeah, yeah
one, yeah (my bread gone)
they thought that it’s the one on me, lookin’ at

[verse]
ayy, b-tch, i’ma keep bailin’ out until my bread gone
f-ck n-gga (look around, n-gga)
yeah, n-gga thought he was thinkin’ right until his head gone (hah, yeah)
i’ll put a p-ssy-ass n-gga on a headstone (where he go?)
these n-ggas ain’t really ’bout it, need to head home (there they go)
i’ll never ever trust again now that my mans gone (come on, baby)
ooh, b-tch, i got this switch on me, go’n ‘head and try to switch on me (brrt)
swear to god i’ma smoke evеrybody soon as sh-t get funny (yeah)
baby, pull that p-ssy out your panties and just givе it to me (you feel good)
i don’t think you understand the sh-t that you could do with money
give lil’ woo-woo ten, on my— mm, he gon’ do it for me (go get his ass)
he ain’t pay again, swear to god i’m ’bout to do my junkie
fast sh-t parked out back, this ain’t no subaru, this ain’t no outback
yeah, you gotta call dora and explore to find my house, jack (where it’s at?)
all my t–th yellow ’cause they gold, b-tch, that’s not plaque
b-tch, i went platinum in that bowl, i don’t got plaques (yeah)
b-tch, i’m road runnin’ through the o in a hawktrack
ooh, i mean a trackhawk, b-tch, i’m throwed, we don’t drop scats
ooh, lil’ bro just caught another lo’, he don’t drop hats
did i hear a n-gga say he want some smoke? okay, where the drop at?
got my phones, grams, and digi’, okay, n-gga, where my glock at? (huh)
i could buss a brick at four for twenty and bring the block back
i got a four from my junkie daniel, this is not jack (daniel)
in my motherf-ckin’ cup, b-tch, i’m rerockin’ cut (dope)
buss a brick of tan down into sand and i rerock it up (yeah)
gettin’ busy, boy, i’m blendin’, buss the sand, yeah, i’m rerockin’ dust
b-tches know that i’m a vibe in real life and they ain’t turnt as us (yeah)
ask any n-gga ’round me, i got the power, i’ma turn him up (yeah)
ask around, they gon’ tell you we ball, beatin’ all day (i’m for real)
i just got a batch of big dogs and they all gray (i’m for real)
i be grindin’ like a big dog, i don’t parlay (i don’t play, n-gga, yeah)
diamonds on me hittin’ like bing-bong (ayy)
beatin’ on my chest like king kong (ayy)
yeah, i’m in miami in the jungle eatin’ steak, huh (yeah)
i could barely walk in bal harbour, pourin’ eights, huh (for real)
got a plug on icy in ohio, i can skate, huh (ooh)
show you how to make a million dollars off a tape (huh)
shawty bad, she shakin’ ass and doin’ lines off a plate
i’m ridin’ with it all on me, no more hide in the safe (it’s on me)
yeah, i got the ike turner, bobby brown, and the ray
charles, n-gga, they can’t see me, on college d-gg-n’ the wraith (on my baby)
yeah, i got this sh-t off grindin’, puttin’ dog on the plate (on my baby)
(these n-ggas ain’t on sh-t, they just joggin’ in place)
i was broke, now i just stuffed my joggers with pape’ (ooh)
i be with demons all the time, but i thank god every day (on my mama)
i tuck my 9 and leave the house, know i could die every day (got my 9)
you think i’m goin’ broke, i ain’t dyin’ that way (you lost)

- chicken p

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