Stalley Feat. Rick Ross - Love Sosa (Prod. By Young Chop) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Stalley Feat. Rick Ross
• Love Sosa (Prod. By Young Chop)

I say, I’m ridin’ on Forges – call them my skaters
You know them bodies is sticky, you can’t get caught up in capers
Niggas are tricky, you can’t be askin’ for favors
2-2-3 on the lickin’, and make your bitch go in labor
Niggas hate when you winnin’, you wanna kill ‘em, I feel ya
Took the top off the car, bitch I know my face look familiar
Fuckin’ with my lil’ gangters, we makin’ a killin’
When you count your first million you never forget the feelin’
That when my eyes go to twitchin’, palms start to itchin’
Niggas be snitchin’, that’s when my dogs start trippin’
(Rat-tat-tat-tat, Rat-tat-tat-tat)
Black belly, I bought a bitch, you know my pockets fat
More money to gain, Double-M on my chain
I just redid the deal, another 20 and change
I step where I please, broke nigga freeze
Cartier bracelet, them Swisher Sweets in my jeans

[Hook: Chief Keef]
These bitches love Sosa
O End or no end
Fucking with them O boys
You gon' get fucked over
Rari's and Rovers
These hoes love Chief Sosa
Hit him with that cobra
Now that boy slumped over
They do it all for Sosa
You boys ain't making no noise
Ya'll know I'm a grown boy
Your clique full of broke boys
God ya'll some broke boys
God ya'll some broke boys
We GBE dope boys
We got lots of dough boy

[Verse 2: Stalley]
Still in all gold just like Mr. T
Rollin’ up that Swisher Sweet
Box Chevy with Diamond seats
Ridin’ to this Diamond D
Diamonds in my pinky ring
Middle finger to you hatin’ niggas
That hate to see a nigga do his thing
But I’m doin’ me, a million last year
Even after doin’ that Music Manage tour for free
Now all I hear is “this year is me”
And I told Ross if it ain’t
I’mma clique on and run down on you rappers
And your weak rhymes, I lost struggle because I kept grindin’
Man, speak honest – these weak niggas can’t compete
I’mma be honest, I’m being modest
Freshest nigga, come check the closets
World tour and them checks deposit
New whips with no mileage, new cribs by cold harbors
Bury money in my back yard while you niggas goin’ back and forth