Tity Boi (2 Chainz)
Tity Boi (2 Chainz) - Stand Still lyrics
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2 Chainz... Scream, what's happenin' You know man, these people man... A lot of'em, a lot of'em going nowhere fast man I call dat "treadmillin'", you feel me They at a standstill man, got'em at a standstill [Tity Boi:] Long nights, more white and foresight Foreseen in a foreign with the fog lights On a pedestal and you're frog height Forever clever, napalm mics Blowed up last summer off of the freestyles Year before that, the plug was on redial Couple years remove for the penile State of mind: criminal enterprise Individuals who want extra sides And desert, so we gone need extra pies Emphasize I pull girls like a exercise I pull so many hoes I need extra guys Don't stand so close, shawty respect the fie (fire) No sweat although the temp too high Where I'm from, we feel the rent too high She got me fucked up, I think the bitch too high And I'm a southside astronaut, SA, that's the acronym Mauri's with the air bubble on the back of them The truck so big, it go beep backing in [Chorus:] Yep, yep, we got'em at a stand still Like traffic, we got'em at a stand still Young niggas from Atlanta, we're on a mission Feel that, that's momentum shiftin' Yep, yep, we got'em at a stand still Like traffic, we got'em at a stand still Young niggas from Atlanta, we're on a mission Feel that, that's momentum shiftin' [CyHi Da Prynce:] Since I was a boy wearing Bugle's Ran with the big dogs, never with the poodles Eating noodles, being frugal, open mic at Crucial Pussies wanna shoot you cause yo name all over Google Plus they stuck in neutral, and I doodle when I doo doo So I won't take no shorts, I want the whole kit n kaboodle Martial arts flow, what I'm kickin is brutal Fuck you busters and you suckers, you ain't shit in my pupil Toaster in the kitchen, but I ain't fixin a stroodle Cause I hang with street niggas that's still getin boodle If I never knew you, you can't get a feature Cause my words are beautiful, I'm Mona Lisa of the speaker Me and 2 chainz backstage blowin Keisha Witta black and yellow bitch, you can call me Wiz Khalifa Or, shakespeare in his late years Face fears to make the average nigga taste tears Waist spear for my fake peers You in park partner, I'm in eighth gear I hear you haters hatin, I got great ears Cause the ATL on top and we stay here, yeah