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tortilla chips - bad move lyrics

[verse]
aye aye
i got the world in my hand i make it do what i want
workin that b*tch 9 to 5 i treat that hoe like a job
i got it all on my own i never asked for a handout
now i’m feelin like the man now
act hot get fanned down
i brought all my brothers with me
tell the reaper that he can come get me
i better not see a m*th*f*ckin single inside of my bankroll of hundreds and fifties
you might catch me in houston like whitney
got a couple of girls in the city
and they always gon act up when i throw that money real quick in a jiffy
i ain’t picky they be pretty
they be witty and sadity
hit the vippy, i got dusse in my sippy so we sitchy
i am on another level like the boss up on the game
from the city of chicago i could never be a lame
glizzy bigger than the clock up on the neck of flavor flav
send me to the f*ckin place need some checks up in my brain
see my pajama pants got to have pockets on em
and my ambulance got to have rockets on it
twisted metal yeah i got to keep a sprocket on me
n*ggas think it’s sweet, i k!ll em
w*lly wonka don’t it
hey hey hey
got to keep a stick like pocky
slidin on ice like hockey
that b*tch a muhf*ckin stallion
imma ride that like a jockey
all these horses on my body
polo might as well just sign me
i might have to do the dash if the red and blues get right behind me
hide out like osama they gon need 6 seals just to find me
acog cog sight geared the way that i’m f*ckin grindin
hey
i never had a silver spoon so i need a chef to cook 6 course meals
i never had a f*ckin car so i need foreign f*ckin drift car wheel
i dreaded my hair but i’m still afro samurai toting big steel
ballin hard bradley beal
we bought the label, let’s make a deal
can’t stop til we make a mil
or til we make a hundred f*ckin mil
even then won’t stop still
you can call me rich homie quill
got the juice n*gga, lets peel
oh my god what is this a el
goin in 4 minutes h*ll
zack and screech saved by the bell
white girl skating on a rail
y’all screaming free ya homie but his bond only like 500
someone get that boy up out that jail
yeah
you n*ggas funny lil rel
yeah
get the bales off the scale
yeah
dope boy what’s that smell
yeah
gold ball sized hail
yeah
go out and check the mail
they slime a n*gga like a snail
sh*t last opp blew a hole through him threw him in the ocean like a whale (beluga)
these n*ggas huntin for belugas
hold ya breath like a scuba
totin all these f*ckin rugers
harpoons to the shooters
yeezy boosts on a booster
easy plays on computers
n*ggas snakes they medusas
all praise to producers
if you take another n*gga hoe that mean any second you could lose her
(for real)
no chickens no roosters
(nah)
you n*ggas duck, duck, goosin
(yeah)
this bl!ck gon flintstone like fred imma yabba dabba do ya
or we can scr*ppy dappy duel it
ain’t no yappin boy let’s do it
handy manny with the toolage
i’m eatin tortillas in studio
i did this sh*t on the beat imagine just what i’ll do to ya

[outro]
h*ll naw
this sh*t good though, for real

- bad move lyrics

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