IV Chord Stuff Табы
Quiet? No I can't be quiet
Shit, every time I talk that's Brick Fam. Holiday!
That's 185 right there
Yo Gucc! I know you got like 10 birds when we walk in the club nigga
You know what it is - Trap Back baby! The streets is hungry
Eighty grand in my Robin jeans
It's hot outside, but I'm coolin' it
Top on down but I'm losing it
Mind gone with a foreign chick
With a Tech-9 with a cooling kit
Got the black jeans with the wings on 'em
Gucci shoes, no shoe-strings
Shit, every word means two things
So the white girl is my boo thang
And I'll come in due time, in the drop head at the blue flame
And I don't like to see no new faces
'Cause I don't like to learn no new names
I go to sleep in foreign places
Wake up, count big faces
Stuff cash in suitcases, pillowcases I'm two faced!
[Chorus x8]
I'm a walking lick, I'm a talking brick, I'm talking shit
Millionaire with Trues on in a stash house with shoes on
Put a million dollars in my new home
And a quarter million in my trap house
Put a half a mil in your bank account
Nigga, serve dope in my zone
Cooking the work with no gloves on
So the junkies can get they grub on
My OG with capital letters
On Capital Ave. with white leathers
In a 68 Camero, no top on, I'm put together
I got salt and pepper, no Spindarella
Stupid cheese, that's Mozerella
Bust em open, put em back together
Then sell them to you, ahead of schedule
[Chorus x8]
I heard a price tag on my head! (Flocka!)
I'm a walking lick!
Nigga, come and try, you gon end up dead bitch
? roadkill, my niggas they so for real
20 minutes from my hood, I don't need no house on the hill!
Reachin' for my tech, your mama better write your will
She gon get ugly, my youngest pop about two pills
Where them niggas before and with this record deal
Me and Gucci Mane, bitch, we hard to kill
[Hook x8]
Shit, every time I talk that's Brick Fam. Holiday!
That's 185 right there
Yo Gucc! I know you got like 10 birds when we walk in the club nigga
You know what it is - Trap Back baby! The streets is hungry
Eighty grand in my Robin jeans
It's hot outside, but I'm coolin' it
Top on down but I'm losing it
Mind gone with a foreign chick
With a Tech-9 with a cooling kit
Got the black jeans with the wings on 'em
Gucci shoes, no shoe-strings
Shit, every word means two things
So the white girl is my boo thang
And I'll come in due time, in the drop head at the blue flame
And I don't like to see no new faces
'Cause I don't like to learn no new names
I go to sleep in foreign places
Wake up, count big faces
Stuff cash in suitcases, pillowcases I'm two faced!
[Chorus x8]
I'm a walking lick, I'm a talking brick, I'm talking shit
Millionaire with Trues on in a stash house with shoes on
Put a million dollars in my new home
And a quarter million in my trap house
Put a half a mil in your bank account
Nigga, serve dope in my zone
Cooking the work with no gloves on
So the junkies can get they grub on
My OG with capital letters
On Capital Ave. with white leathers
In a 68 Camero, no top on, I'm put together
I got salt and pepper, no Spindarella
Stupid cheese, that's Mozerella
Bust em open, put em back together
Then sell them to you, ahead of schedule
[Chorus x8]
I heard a price tag on my head! (Flocka!)
I'm a walking lick!
Nigga, come and try, you gon end up dead bitch
? roadkill, my niggas they so for real
20 minutes from my hood, I don't need no house on the hill!
Reachin' for my tech, your mama better write your will
She gon get ugly, my youngest pop about two pills
Where them niggas before and with this record deal
Me and Gucci Mane, bitch, we hard to kill
[Hook x8]