Curren$y - BBS | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Curren$y
• BBS

This that gold bbs flow
Plastic nike air tags on your original 4's
Niggas done z'd on ya mans
And im rollin a O
Leave em sleep, I don't need them suckas
Listening to me
Pack the bong full wit everything except the kitchen sink
Underneath which I keep a set of andis clippers
I can fix my lining up
Before we go over by them bitches
A quick little something
Can't get the back
I don't know where I left my hand mirror
Type of dilemma's i'll never hinder my jet living
We just chillin
So don't come around here, fake-toughing
Running off the women
Bossed up, all us
Outside the club waiting to tip drivers who pull our cars up
The fuck you thought this was, dawg
I'm a trill muthafucka after all
Haters is dressed as safety nets encouraging my fall
Won't catch me there
But you can catch me on air, when my new shit premier
At whatever media outlet decides to play it fair
Fuck playing dead, pimpin, I'mma play the bear
Grizzly, seriously, fishborne turned flipstyles
Furiously
This that 70's soul Green, Al chemistry
Ay mane, been a G since Buddy Lees
Lames be cuffin they jeans, and they bitches
I be cooking these bird ass hoes
Running circles round em
They rotisserie chickens
Love gotta shovel in her hand
I see you diggin
Strike gold, build yo own coffin with it
Dead ass
Flick ashes on the girls in my past tense
The telly's for the ones I was just fucking
The crib's for the one I was gon' get right back with
Its easy to get tangled in the stars
Spangled
Mangled in the night life, living out my bars
Dangerous, yeah

Curren$y еще тексты