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letra de flood the streets - toohda band$

[intro]
(ooh, sh-t, that’s a danny g beat)
(funk or die)
alright
yeah

[verse]
this that bag talk, get your paper up
how the f-ck you get to talk when you ain’t made enough?
i just f-ck her like a dog, you just ate it up
i be f-ckin’ model b-tches that you pay to f-ck
‘member i was down, now i’m up, b-tch, we winnin’
duckin’ from the narcs, bendin’ corners, hittin’ fences
baby, keep your focus, eyes steady, on a mission
all my chains on, feelin’ comfy in the trenches
n-gga, what your paper like?
n-ggas always talkin’ heavy, but they paper light
i just gave her syrup d-ck, she wanna stay the night
i told baby gotta go, i’m finna catch a flight
i flew ’em in
bags comin’, bring the movеrs in
hangin’ with the dealers or i’m mobbin’ with my hooligans
how you nеver hit n0body? what you shootin’ then?
burnin’ up the tires, doin’ donuts in the newest benz
my n-gga said it’s on the floor, i told him count me in
how the f-ck is you a boss and you can’t up a ten?
how the f-ck is you the boss and you can’t up a crib?
worth a lot of money in the trenches, that’s just how i live
stop it, you ain’t got no money in your pocket
n-ggas mad when they b-tch talk, i’m the topic
n-gga, what’s the lean price? don’t give a f-ck, i’ma cop it
reachin’ for my chain, 40 punch you like it’s boxin’
ain’t got no morton, where the wockeisha?
don’t do the alcohol and i don’t pop neither
brodie tried to hit a n-gga granny, swear he need a preacher
chrome heart, bouncin’ out the rental lookin’ like the reaper
baby put the p-ssy down on me, put me in a sleeper
i don’t even want your b-tch, she look like jeepers creepers
flood the streets with my bars, i’ma feed the people
my fiend use all utensils, he just need a needle
wealthy on, if it ain’t that, i bet i got vlone
if she ain’t talkin’ ’bout no money, tell her leave me ‘lone
these n-ggas tryna bite my swag, i think i got a clone
naw, this is a runtz pack, this is not cologne
you better get your b-tch, bruh, she tryna take me home
she see them f.o.d. chains, this the icy show
i’m an ugly n-gga, but i’m paid, plus she like me, though
she tryna suck my d-ck off, but this your wifey, though
four grams of cookie in a ‘wood mixed with do-si-do
i got this sh-t up in the bag just like a four-for-four
i still’ll slime a n-gga out, i’ll probably cut your throat
n-gga speakin’ on the dead, you know how that sh-t go
[outro]
(ooh, sh-t, that’s a danny g beat)

- toohda band

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