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blood, sweat, and gears lyrics

[–feat. fiend–]
take this opportunity to roll up
locate your lighters
[verse 1: curren$y]
laced, david robinson’s wally moccasins
matte black paint, polished rims
da f–k you said i ain’t hear it clear
too much money talking in my ear
the end result of two alb-ms in one year
blood sweat and gears
life in between the racing stripes
we break day err night
alternative lifestyle
i ain’t looking for her p-ssy boy
this trill jet sh-t, just enjoy
that’s yo wifey but she still a jet miss
give her direction to the tele and a check list
arriving shortly with the items i requested
reinforce the frame with that jive n-gg- repellant my new plane
maintain the smoke
let ya take a couple grams home if you my folk
eyeball you with a lil something
i ain’t the weed man though
but if you give me 15 minutes i’ll call my folk, he’ll be at the door
connecting four, marine batteries on one side of the trunk
to go with them other four batteries that powering the pumps
it’s the juice and them cylinders that make the chevy jump
you already know ain’t gotta tell ya bout it partner
yo b-tch stay talkin and you steady eavesdropping
[verse 2: fiend]
rolling trees can do something for you
no matter what you be goin through
execution flow
ten thousand grams of pot-ssium
streets i roam, mama praying like the vatican
my life feels like trade water in the ocean
who’s standing in
i’m dopes up moving drug trafficking
tell her get dough i’m getting fat again
what i do to get my love warm, laugh again
say love don’t give me your mouth again
got to movie later on, you’ll be acting in
life is like free throws
some things ya gone miss
some things ya make
don’t rush, don’t wait
i call pape time travel machine
it can get ya there faster but it can’t wake a permanent sleep
i never compromise my fresh
smoke kush not cess
why cry i’m blessed
aw lend me the bail out
the ones i call my ten dogs in a jail house
jets smoking in the club on tour
born in new orleans all new friends bonjour
i’m general building, international jones
louie scarf, diamond-wear smoking one with the homies
walls full of vinyl
all bars are final
leather is your wrists first name, not lionel
international jones
curren$y the spitta
alchemist my n-gg-
tell them ladies go figure

- feat fiend currency kevin gates lyrics

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