still high - g.t. lyrics
[intro]
(ooh, this money counter music)
the shoes may not be sweet, but they two thousand
i said, my kicks, they may not be sweet, but they two thousand (two racks for these ugly*ass shoes)
my ice look like a fountain (my ice wetter than a motherf*ckin’ fountain)
n*gga, rolls, uh, truck, hop out, hop—
hoppin’ out the rolls*royce truck, we gon’ get it clownin’
[verse 1]
n*ggas doin’ too much (for real)
n*ggas doin’ too much, i ran it up in two months
i remember sippin’ act’ with vez out a fruit punch
i missed a lot of class, but i never skipped school lunch
i used to pop xans, footb*lls, school bus
wake up and forgot what i did like i’m too drunk
now a n*gga too turnt, two watches, two buffs
i said i wasn’t sippin’, i hit texas, now i’m screwed up
i know some real n*ggas don’t rap
you heard that from face, they make 100k a play
lock it down ’til it’s hot, then we switchin’ up the state
you wanna shine, then come to my hood and get some flake
[chorus]
got a full tank of gas (let’s go, let’s go)
in my new s*class (in my s*class benz)
my face card hot
my n*ggas gon’ slide
got everything (everything)
in my rich b*tch name (in my rich b*tch name, yeah)
’cause i’m hood rich
la*da*da*da, da*da*da*da
[verse 2]
i knew how to get some money, it just took me some time
the hoes used to say f*ck me, now they fallin’ in line
i go straight up in saks and i tear down the inside
i get prada, gucci, i’ll cop whatever
burberry cool, but i rock the louis sweater
twenty*four inches, eight*inch [?][1:30]
it’s g.t., b*tch, i rock my chain, change the weather
n*ggas keep talkin’ birds, they ain’t even sold a feather
peanut b*tter seats with the wood on the inside
carbine on the dash, g*wagen sit so high
number ones, don’t tangle or twist it
when it come to these cars, i got some sh*t i ain’t whippin’
[chorus]
got a full tank of gas (for real, real)
in my new s*class (in my s*class benz)
my face card hot (hot)
my n*ggas gon’ slide (they gon’ slide, they gon’ slide for me)
got everything
in my rich b*tch name (d*mn, i don’t care, though)
’cause i’m hood rich (come on)
la*da*da*da, da*da*da*da
[outro]
money counter, n*gga
money counter music
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