Lyrics:
know its real
By the way your lips touch mine
Stars align
When we kiss can't fake the passion
Our bodies intertwine
The sky is the ground
Floating don't
bitch
Fsk get run down on lil bitch
Afk niggas die in this bitch
On the news
Mommas crying and shit
Ra Ra hittin at bodies and shit
Feel like Chucky
Too
Got that 9mm got that 10mm
Got that little duece duece and they all for sale
Got that old trey pound, got that new fore pound
Dey bin used once or twice
Got that 9mm got that 10mm
Got that little duece duece and they all for sale
Got that old trey pound, got that new fore pound
Dey bin used once or twice
of me
Begins on the New Year's Day
Get me to a higher state!
Twelve, eleven, ten
You're turning a new page
Nine, eight, seven, six and five
You'll be
I just crank on a bitch like a bell (Crank)
Only use one hand like Odell ('ell)
Shipping gas, you could tell by the smell
Big bag with the Glock in
Put your food on the scale, food on the scale
Ayy, it's not everyday trap on Snap
You wanna test? It's fine by me
New era, hit 'em with the new
grams, its easy to remember
(Throughout the I 9 to 5 I'm the Handyman)
Racing through the hood, ski mask off
Criminology hustle, when goons play
to my pistol
We broke in and out grabbin
Blue in cheese by the fistful
Cannons on a rat sendin bitches
20 Missiles
Paralyzed his lil bro new
Wheelchair
money 'till I die, gimme' 25
Man I might not be alive when I'm 25
Thats why I carry 2 nines, n' a 25
And sell 20's, that'll get you dummy high
Bagged in
money 'till I die, gimme' 25
Man I might not be alive when I'm 25
Thats why I carry 2 nines, n' a 25
And sell 20's, that'll get you dummy high
Bagged in
Off-day, off-day this the boss way
Off-day off-trey get it nine ways
Off-day best trade this the boss fade
Off day on-day that’s the switch way
of huncho, hundos (boom, boom)
Gotta keep the nine like Rondo
Cop a new condo, pronto
Rollin' Backwoods, no Fronto, fuck no
Been had the juice, ten shots
I gotta close the window before I record
Cause New York don't know how to be quiet
Coogi down to the socks like I'm Biggie poppa
Keep your girl
I gotta close the window before I record
'Cause New York don't know how to be quiet
Coogi down to the socks like I'm Biggie poppa
Keep your girl
body, to your soul!
[Chorus]
You better, pack up your bags, better get out of town
'Cause when the God come you know he gon' be putting it down
the bag boy
Option was that minimum wage, live in a cage
Buildin' a prison everyday, man they cultivatin' these slaves
In this new age
Dude's wage is fugaze
by the gate moms
Lookin' straight with her house she got great loungin' in her new home
That's about to state I'll be your call mail motel you can
twenty-nine
Every day a nigga flip phone ring a hundred times
Had a foreign car, mink coat, I rode around, buy the car
Throw the tint on and I roll around
catchin' bodies (crazy)
We ain't 'bout to throw no hands, you know niggas scared to fight (no)
Ain't no mercy for these niggas, bro, they ain't gon' spare
Millennium flow
Serena Altschul's here live outside the criminal courthouse
(This is bullshit y'all)
In New York city for the first day in
To a tomb
There are cells within our bodies
We don't need bodies in our cells.
So let me tell you a short story
A story of a girl. A girl called
Nine year
Make it rattle and roll
Shake that body
Shake that body
She's a dancer
Like a dancing machine
She ain't new to this thing
Got her own routine
At home
[Notorious B.I.G]
I went from construction Timbs, to Ac's with rims
Flippin mix tapes - to bitches feedin me grapes
Peep my mind state, Big Poppa
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