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circles on figueroa st. - big sad 1900 & iamm lyrics

[intro]
yeah
i am him, but not them, though
b*tch, you know what i’m sayin
the one and not the two, though…

you know how this sh*t go man. 1900
look, aye…

[chorus]
aye fast cars in the fast lanes
baby bust down
miami and the dc trips we do touchdowns
i could put my b*lls in her mouth cause i’m up now
been put diamonds on my wrist, she wanna f*ck now
i been out with thousand*dollar ? this farrari
spinning circles on figueroa, tell her call me
geekin i done came in with the forty in the party
a dreadhead blowing big pot, bob marley

[verse 1]
i could make a skinny b*tch out trap a thick hoe
let me in the bay. i get love around that frisco
you’ll find her down and around before that b*tch blow
i’ma pour a four, get some money, then i get mo
thesе b*tches know my name
and thesе n*ggas know my status
you, my b*tch, i’ll f*ck you in the kitchen or the mattress
i’m in new york shopping out here, tryna pick some fashion
get off all in yo sh*t, like ‘n*gga, why you laughing?’
in a sp*ceship riding big whips, this a hunnid*grand
i’m in hollywood sweatin’ b*tches shoutout [?]
you don’t got no money; nah, b*tch, i am not yo man
you ain’t got no gun; you a gangsta
i am not yo friend
bad b*tch, everything she wearing is dior
[?] baby bottles on the floor
i’m a trophy, n*ggas want to knock me off and up the score
i’ve been busy bussin’ down; n*gga go and check the board
[…]

[verse 2]
i kick out; i don’t kick door; thats the [?]
hanging out; dining with the pimps at the friscos
white t**th watching how my neck and my wrist glow
i don’t need a car, break a sweat when the b*tch blow double r’s and rari’s out here acting like i’m gotti. talkin bout can she work, can i work, and who gone, stop me
kept it p when i [?] for the b*tch; he wanna pop me
i put b*tches on the track and do shows after roxy
i blow big door in a big benz, not a 64
got yo ass living outta rooms, you should get ghost
i done did it all around this b*tch i’m like big bro
the b*tch came with a thousand dollars. i’m like get mo
west la n*gga on my cross country sh*t, i’ma drop her off to you, when i’m done with the b*tch
walk her down sweat her from the 9 to the 6. you can’t name another rapper who be really in the mix
[chorus]
aye fast cars in the fast lanes
baby bust down
miami and the dc trips we do touchdowns
i could put my b*lls in her mouth cause i’m up now
been put diamonds on my wrist, she wanna f*ck now
i been out with thousand*dollar ? this farrari
spinning circles on figueroa, tell her call me
geekin i done came in with the forty in the party
a dreadhead blowing big pot, bob marley

- big sad 1900 iamm lyrics

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