Curren$y
–
442 (Ft. Lil Wayne & Birdman)
- Продолжительность:
- 05:39
- Формат:
- mp3
- Размер:
- 6,51 МБ
- Качество:
- 192 kbit/sec
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Текст песни "Curren$y — 442 (Ft. Lil Wayne & Birdman)"
[Verse 1: Curren$y]
442, 442
I'm burnin' gas like a 442
I'm rollin' past that BMW
That new shit pretty, these old-schools move
I ride city-to-city, my motor fine-tuned
I've got your girl with me, she so unfollowed you
I'm a paper on paper mission, caper to count the loot
We super fly fishin', we've got some Gucci shoes
Started with no pot to piss in, now I smoke pot and kick it
Beautiful stranger [?] tryna get more familiar
New Orleans know I feel 'em, wherever I go, I bring 'em
Real niggas in the building, smoked out any whip I've driven
Only focus is gettin' in the door
So we ripped it, up off the fuckin' hinges like:
"Where's the dope? We know it's in here"
Niggas already told us, give it here
Can we ball? So high on this motherfuckin' jet
Check my rhymes, I ain't totalled, I get
[Hook: Curren$y]
442, 442
I'm burnin' gas like a 442
We comin' through, convertibles and coupes
My OG told me "smash anything in front you"
442, 442
I'm burnin' gas like a 442
Convertibles and coupes
If it's 'bout that cash, there's no tellin' what we'll do
[Verse 2: Lil Wayne]
Money to the ceiling
Pimpin' is a gift I opened way too early
Like my, hair curly, redbone curvy
Make 'em run from this dick [?]
Alright, lipstick on my boxers, these bitches love my posture
Quick frankly I'm Sinatra, I'm shark and you tilapia
I've got [?] on payroll, but I grab my binoculars
I'm lookin' for my reason to tell my [?] I don't need 'em
Alright, revenge taste better than pussy
Man, ain't got no purple, gotta get it from Whoopi
I'mma put it in your mouth, I don't know how else to put it
I bet they ain't fuckin' with me, where's the [?]
Alright, I'm a motherfucker, quote-on-quote
She ride this dick like it came off the showroom floor
Lil' Tunechi aka No Baking Soda, I'm high, Lamar Odom
I'm smokin' like a motor
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Birdman]
We poppin' off
We get to stuntin', you know it's bang or ball
Rollin' off, slidin' free [?] we clear them streets
Third wall, we bend them niggas
Reppin' mines to the end, my nigga
High life, we can't fake [?] so we'll show them niggas
Take they bitches, bring 'em home
Stunna holla, bang and ball
Layin' low in my old school
Top back for my old cool
[?] stay fly in that Bentley Coupe
Told my bitch how to get this money
Showed a bitch how to get this money
Pimpin' hoes, we pimp this game
Got the money, we kept on runnin'
Hard top and that new school
Drop top and that new school
Roof wide open [?] out the pound with them big tools
What up five? We in this jungle
What up five? We keep it bumpin'
What up five? We shine and hustle
What up five? Bugh
[Hook]
