Rico G
Rico G - Souffly songtekst
Je score:
3:47 feelin like some sort of reverend Wonderin what would of happened If my aborted developed I just want my dogs to have hella spots like Cruela's Those de'vils and those reserve notes that other government cheddar I'm a king before I'm gone imma need a queen or a Coretta And I promise to get it moist before I stick like an envelope With a prenup in this bitch just in case it's all a set up We're analog time to infants these mother fuckers can't tell us Cuz We aint tighten our belt up and some of my niggas sell drugs that We fail and fail forever and we can fall and help ourselves up But these are thoughts of a fighter Right now can't find my lighter so I lit this with my written And wondered can I get higher My fantasies manifest in the forms of the stacks and checks And them women with perfect breasts And I'm callin them boom box batteries You know D's come in sets Crack a smile for the Day-Days money was funny as Mike Epps That shit made it hard to rest My told me to get paid Touché Just make hits Boucher Just to rise, that soufflé When I die, no bouquet What the fuck, on her brain Tell that bitch to behave No do-rag It's that new wave (x3) I'm lovin life at the moment It burn just right when I roll it Imagine this nigga riding slow through Oakland in a Lotus & Smoking some flower bomb where cops love to meet their quota But I be easy, keep my j low, my j lo, Jennifer Lopez Hit that store on the corner Cheap liq and generic soda Where without notice them stray bullets lifted that infant's soul up So we tryin to move on up Trying to get my dough up Till my pockets get sent to fat camp For some man they blow up That platinum or Whoopi Gold 32s Irving Magic She get her Cookie on Don't pick them scabs that should grow Then baby maybe we can grow Like natural fros in ‘74 I'm dolomite to them socialites Make them lie through their overbite Bitch I know you came to fuck cuz you brought bags to stay overnight That's common sense like Chicago rap If Jesus had a Twitter, I wonder who he would follow back Random thought tilt that bottle back But watch yourself most hate is thrown Behind your back like a Rondo pass Get paid Touch Just make hits Boucher Just to rise, that souffl When I die, no bouquet What the fuck, on her brain Tell that bitch to behave No do-rag It's that new wave (x3) (X2)