8Ball - No Room Feat. Trinidad Jame (Prod By Joe Millionaire) | Текст песни

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• 8Ball
• No Room Feat. Trinidad Jame (Prod By Joe Millionaire)

[Bridge: 8Ball]
I ain't got no room for none of that bullshit, no room for none of you haters
No room for none of that fuck shit, no room for none of that
I ain't got no room for none of that bullshit, no room for none of you haters
No room for none of that fuck shit, no room for none of you sucka's

[Hook: 8Ball]
I ain't got no room for none of that, I ain't got no room for none of that
I ain't got no room for none of that, I ain't got no room for none of that
I ain't got no room for none of that, I ain't got no room for none of that
I ain't got no room for none of that, I ain't got no room for none of that

[Verse 1: 8Ball]
I ain't got no room for all of that talking, you and all them hoes
Bitch nigga keep walking, you fucking up my flow
Mary Jane in my suite, you can smell it when I heat it
On that Hennessy straight, that shit make a nigga act ig'nant
Pop that pistol like a rule , extra clips on deck
Gold in my mouth and, gold around my neck
Season up the track like, fat back on your mama greens
Why I'm in your bitch face, fat back in your bitch jeans
Bread, your conversation must contain it
If it doesn't then to me you're just not entertaining
I'm in my old school, top down, music banging
Me and some hoes, not a bunch of lames hanging

[Bridge]

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Trinidad James]
Y'all see my cover, start hating
I seen your bitch and start pimping
Need an 8 ball of that hard shit? My niggas get you straight
I'm from the A-Town, we ride old school's, we coming out skating
I hit your bitch good, yeah that pussy hot, I was literally cumming out singing
Please forgive me my sins, cause I see these haters again
In the front and side of my mirror, trying to bring me down to them
Trying to bring me down to end, turn back up on they ass
Like three hits of that gas, like three hits of that gas
I went from the cheetah shirt, red slacks, to a couple dollars in my hand
To that cheetah thing, wearing twenty bands, in that motherfucking bag
I got motherfucking swag, this swag fuck your mama
You can talk shit if you want to, but hating not an option
Bitch

[Hook]

[Bridge]

[Verse 3: 8Ball]
I ain't got no room for all of that playing, money what we 'bout
Niggas better watch what they saying, that iron will come out
The one that's in my jeans, good weed and bands of that bread
The key to what I pulled up in, good weed and bands of that bread
Magnificent, fat boy he be ripping shit
Some people don't see the gift, fat boy he don't give a shit
Talk it like I see it, my vision sometimes is distorted
Talking from my heart, write it down and then record it
Ride to it and smoke, me and one of my hoes
She in stretch pants and heels and her fingers match her toes
Sprite of the DJ Screw, obstructing my view
Don't speak when I see ya', that mean I don't fuck with you

[Bridge]

[Hook]