- Curren$y Garage Talk 歌词
- Wiz Khalifa Curren$y
- 制作人 : Dame Grease
母带工程师 : Eric Dan Uhh Hehehe I just got the **** off a plane 6 car garage I got more than 1 job Be a boss, go hard Wake up smelling kush when I yawn Shorty wanna **** with the king, tired of them pawns Ain't on the top? Well thats nonsense Bank account full of G's so that's all you gon get TSA on my face so they don't trip Chain frost, big ***** that I'm with give me no lip We'd done touch M's now we on to billions Hard to explain how these new rugs feeling Blowing kush up in high ceiling's Having meetings at the crib, confidential dealings And I ain't gotta tell you who the realest is Thats my ***** spitta, foreign cooked chef And where the kitchen is Money straight where my business is And the girls **** with me So I'm always where the b*****s is Kid Ye Ye Ye Ye I see all the ***y mami's in here Hey, Ay wiz I smell you up here too Make sure you pass that kk to the DJ booth Aww s**t Here comes spitta on them gold BBS Yeah Yuh, Swung through gold BBS and the spoiler kit 1986 slinging that s**t They want the family price on them bricks But I just had a son and I only love him So I ain't coming down on the price Ain't no where else you gon get s**t this nice Got c*****e white, airforce nikes Barclay swishes for all my b*****s Put hightop troops on all my shooters For the goose down jacket from the booster Shootouts on the roof, racing in them coupes She wore the Gucci frames with the door knocker hoops And the lying ************ tell you I ain't the truth Rich uncle come through Pop the truck, pull the duffel Lay the merchandise out, get the loot ************ East side real *****, show ya how to hustle Outside put the ******* Chevrolet's on the bumper If it don't hop, ***** park that s**t That ain't no low rider, thats a rollin' imposter Put the stocks on fool, quit playing like you out here 2009, all kind of high High fly handfuls on the moon trying to drive Its a stoned duo, solid gold jewel tho Kicked the **** out that game and now she won't go Ladies if you ain't go your own drinks You gotta get out the section You heard my man spitta Fellas, raise your glasses Tip your bartenders And make sure you take that ***** ***** We bout to ride out Jet life, taylor gang Oh
|
|