Lyrics:
down the crack of your ass, your frame is priceless
Butter-butter caramel swirl, chocolate chip
French vanilla sundae girls, banana split
Cum drip down
when he go to a 'chip
Tommy Smith and John Carlos, I'm raising a fist
Gold chain, gold rings, no medal for this
Life's an uphill battle, no pedal for
thing 'bout roller skatin'
Mint chocolate chip ice-cream
She's always overdecorating
Loves to cause a scene
She's like sunshine, moonshine,
C.O.]
Bitches ain't shit but hoe's and tricks
I fucked her in the crib, then in the whip
And after I fuck her I'm taking the chips
I'm taking the whips,
a loud-mouth, hard-headed, fool-hearted, stubborn-nose, song-of-a-gun (woah)
Chip off the ole' block with a chip on my shoulder that weighs a ton
All I know for
Alaskan salmon sitting on ice
They got blue corn chips and bagel bites
Coconut in a can
And if your from the south you'll be really pleased
They
might change my name to Brutus
Cut down the beef, now the money flow fluid
Bunch of Louis luggage, still your boy never trip
Gettin' chips, so it's only
waste no gold
Ayy, I can't waste no time with a bitch
Only time I can waste if I was gettin' rich
I got a computer chip inside of the whip
Charge up
the game
Fuck that shit, I don't give a fuck
I'm back up in the fucking club, niggas know I'm at the mall
Eating chips with my drawers, how you doing? How
at me (Look at me)
Big bossin steady stackin chips never thought that I would see this shit
Now I'm on top permanently but I stay in the streets
And I
I know a lot, but there's some things I dont know
Don't know no bitch that I can't hit, don't know no chick that say no
Don't know no chips that I
can get it
I walk around covered in ice like I survived a blizzard
got enough chips to bribe you wit' it
pay off security at clubs, get my guns
* unedited lyrics; The PJ's soundtrack is clean
[Intro: Chip Banks of American Cream Team]
What? Aiyyo, y'all wanna do a track wit us or some shit?
never fold for chips
When the money on the line bitch I roll trips
Cut a bitch off for a week and let her know what she miss
Hundred grand worth
[Intro: Chip Banks of American Cream Team]
What? Aiyyo, why'all want to do a track wit us or some shit?
We the billion dollar boys club.
What you
and picture shit, those don't count
I'm the nigga talkin millions and, own the amount
Mr. frosty, the nigga never fold for chips
When the money on the line
heart
I know that I'm just another
Heartbroken lover
With a great big chip upon this lonely shoulder
But if I ever find out that
There's a life out
That guy swears he will walk
And carries a chip as big as New York
That guy
At night makes me scream
And smashes the best possibilities
That guy
Don't you want to forget someone, too?
It's the wrong game with the wrong chips
Though your lips are tempting, they're the wrong lips
They're not her
put call say make she lap
Annabella gimme german juice make i pop o
Annabella gimme plantain chips make i chop o
Annabella burst the socket open make i
Had to get the chip off my shoulders with the cards I've been dealt with
Looking at your height
Ohhhh
Something that can be helped with
Gotta real
the big chip on my shoulder
That only time will heal
Yeah
Can I take you back for a minute but
Do I have the time
Can I show you all the things that I've
we're not made for this
We could cash in our chips
But if we stay on this bus long enough
eventually the scene will change
Oh we could pack it all up,
and I came back big winning
Them girl there chips yeah they want my sauce yeah they want my dip innit
I told her the sauce ain't free
Baby it’s not cheap
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