conspiracy theorist (freestyle) - energyneverdiess lyrics
[intro]
chea
chea chea chea chea chea chea chea chea
chea chea chea chea chea
chea ta ta ta cheeea
chea
[verse]
these n*ggas tellin’ fibs i keep a guitar tucked
of it ain’t big money then it’s small talk
if it ain’t bout money f*ck you goin’ to war for
huey f be tweakin’ f*ck he dropin’ bombs for
only grenades without a pin, b*tch i want all that
give me the cash now, stuff it in the large bag
she only loyal to the money she gonna give it up
and if you cannot pay it now, then you owin’ us
we don’t take a later payment we gonna blow ya up (pssshhhh)
you see that smoke steam from his body you know it’s up
tell my kin folk & nem it’s pressure now load it up
double cup while drivin’ almost crashed the red truck
light skin, curly hair and her nails red
halftime flip a p*ssy n*gga on his head
don’t talk shhh quiet n*gga now ya dead (shhh)
pretty b*tch twist locs wana dye my hair red
what ya said speak up p*ssy hatta what you said
headed out of town we collectin’ plenty bread
gotta move smarter not tryin’ ta see any feds
nothing scare me more than cops give a bruddah chance
so i’ma need the back in and the whole advance
i need that lucky voodoo spell with the black sand
i used to jam that black album in the ipod
(it’s da roc)
i got a couple bands and bought that b*tch like 6 times
in columbia, i never sleep my eyes wide
so pure, i can cut dis b*tch like 6 times
wet em like a river that boy must be drunk or some (dun dun dun)
that carry*on like a luggage on a plane or some
he think he bowed bout it. he really not sayin’ nonin’
don’t tuck your tail now soldier got a stand up
don’t sit quiet now, real n*gga gone stand up
that black ferrari automatic that b*tch came in sport
i paint this motherf*cker red like a bl**dy corpse
i let that b*tch bring all her friends when i’m in new york
i see everythang through the fence like i’m on the porch
i don’t never talk to a pig and i don’t eat pork
you want it all, but you can’t get it for free yeah
she wanted it all, but can not get it from me yeah
huey f be kinda sick like a disease yeah
and he come to paint the town red like peta
flow be hot like a pan, i’m flyer than peter
and i’m runnin’ dis b*tch like leopards and cheetahs
when god make me a legend, i kick my feet up
when i’m in columbia, i need a re*up
(woo)
[outro]
re*up
p*ssy n*gga we up
we up
we up
(yeee)
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