Money In My Jeans - Snap Capone, Stardom: текст песни id 56764347
If it’s beef call me up, I’m like the weed man
Head shot turn your head red, Ed Sheeran
Pussy boy singing like Adele, pussy boys want me up in jail
I’ve got money on my mind and your bitch on my dick
I’m in the 6 Series loading up the big fat clip
Pagans say they’re on me, they ain’t gonna do shit
I’m with ST, better wear your vest tee, in that GT Continental Bentley
Fresh like a newborn, I shoot corn raw like YouPorn
Or sushi, strapped with the Uzi
Come around and spray it up loosely, bitch I ain’t choosy
Fat bum and fat tits
I’m gonna fuck her standing cause there’s money in the mattress
I be on some mad shit, Magnum glued to a nigga like a magnet
Head shot back split
Money in my jeans, whistle on my waist
I ain’t tryna go back so don’t make me catch a case
Money in my jeans, burner and my gloves
Allow me, I’ll leave yourself flying with the doves
Money in my jeans, whistle on my waist
I ain’t tryna go back so don’t make me catch a case
Money in my jeans, burner and my gloves
Allow me, I’ll leave yourself flying with the doves
Old beef got me rolling with my mash
I’m with Snap in the C-Class tryna get the P fast
Distribute A, B, C class, tell this ting relax, beef got me in like a pizza
Pizza man, bitch want a piece of man
Italian down to the socks, I put the G in swag
P’s in bags got me putting tees in bags
Black and red trim on the man, AC Milan
Money in the mattress, I be on some mad shit
Coke in the water, it started stretching out like Spandex
Down to nick sambas, I’m good for some bangers
These niggas ain’t goons they’re some athletic pranksters
Money in my Dolce, boss call me Jozay
Plug’s called Jose cause he’s got that old Trey
I’ve got the nina in the nina
I went to sleep last night and woke up realer
Money in my jeans, whistle on my waist
I ain’t tryna go back so don’t make me catch a case
Money in my jeans, burner and my gloves
Allow me, I’ll leave yourself flying with the doves
Money in my jeans, whistle on my waist
I ain’t tryna go back so don’t make me catch a case
Money in my jeans, burner and my gloves
Allow me, I’ll leave yourself flying with the doves
S-T, S-N, rolling round West End
No gloves on, my ting’s toting, Smith & Wesson
From Brum town to my town it’s click click bang bang
Kick game Van Damme, nine or the Agram?
Brum town, London city, course a nigga keep it gritty
Mob ties Snap Capone, YM Frank Nitti
.38 long nose, head shot one ho
All my niggas gun hold, Stardom you dun know
Say nizzy, dun know, strapped when I’m on road
Broad day shooting, anytime we let this wham go
Neck shot, head shot, chest shot, riding with the best Glock
All my niggas get guap, the TEC pops
Head rock, bed rock, lightning with the red dot
Send that nigga ten shots, that nigga’s dead darg
Money in my jeans, whistle on my waist
I ain’t tryna go back so don’t make me catch a case
Money in my jeans, burner and my gloves
Allow me, I’ll leave yourself flying with the doves
Money in my jeans, whistle on my waist
I ain’t tryna go back so don’t make me catch a case
Money in my jeans, burner and my gloves
Allow me, I’ll leave yourself flying with the doves
Оставить комментарий: