letras.top
a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de nickel bags - retch

Loading...

[intro]
okay this bag is sour, d-mn
like

[verse 1]
hey yo, my granny doin’ 10
i write her every single time i get a chance
down in france
rock designer pants
hey yo doggie, i need the paper in advance
so i can lay up on the beach, skin tanned
pardon my stance from a distance
my skin resemble that of a ruby, i’m usually glistenin’
spent time perfectin’ my crime up in the kitchen
after school baggin’, i broke ’em off a distance
(?)
f-ck the court, i never play by the rules
i f-ck a b-tch in the bed with my shoes
hit the party, touch a hundred hands
that’s how it goes when you the f-ckin’ man
pose for a pic just to get you off of my d-ck
i got these b-tches and these bottles in my section
but they wanna talk more rappin’ sh-t and badger me with questions
i’m like i’m tryna lamp and smoke dope in the club
and round me my mans yokin’ you up
what the f-ck
[hook]
remember i was selling nickel bags of reefer
high as f-ck in cl-ss tryna hide it from the teacher
back when all my money used go to sneakers
now i’m coolin’ on the boat and blessed a b-tch to blow my p-n-s
cause we started from the bottom, posted in the huddle
nothin’ had nothin’, grew up in the struggle
always had the same friends, those are hard to come by
shout out to the drugs though, kept a n-gg- dumb fly

[verse 2]
this that young tony lo sh-t, product of the corner store
back when i was on the bikes tryna get the order off
cop a dutch from papi, they be gettin’ in the spanish spot
when the cops come we often ran a lot
slide in the crib
finesse my b-tch, throw the c-ck in her rib
i’m smokin’ dope while she toppin’ the kid
complete a heist
i’m set for the rest of my life
start a family, move to washington heights
change my name to t-to
cop them 50’s down them blocks in rico
my whole life is like a f-ckin’ free throw
swish
i’m at the bank with a spliff
sold weight, might take a dip
new york sh-t
f-ck so many b-tches, shout out to the internet
tip my f-ckin’ hat to who i’m finna dead
you that guy
these n-gg-s food, n-gg- you that pie
better that i n-gg-, you that high
ha-ha

[hook]
remember i was selling nickel bags of reefer
high as f-ck in cl-ss tryna hide it from the teacher
back when all my money used go to sneakers
now i’m coolin’ on the boat and blessed a b-tch to blow my p-n-s
cause we started from the bottom, posted in the huddle
nothin’ had nothin’, grew up in the struggle
always had the same friends, those are hard to come by
shout out to the drugs though, kept a n-gg- dumb fly

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS

Loading...