a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

think i'm q tip - oliver francis lyrics

[intro]
shorty, i know you ain’t drivin’ without no papers
i got papers, blunts, bongs
all the ingredients to make a high n*gga pie
hahahahaha

[verse 1: oliver francis]
posted in the sticks, blowin’ doja with a b*tch
say she like the way i spit ’cause my rap game nice
blowin’ cigarillo smoke in this wrap just right
shotgun in the trunk, seen them police lights
pull the car to the side, put the weed on my nuts
take the car out of drive and extinguish the blunt
big homie in the back and he grippin’ the pump
remain calm, be cool ‘fore the cop get slumped
it’s the backwoods grippin’, syrup sippin’, blunt fl!ckin’
delinquent that you’ve comе to love
and i push my skin tone when it comе to drugs
muzzle flash out the back look they’re catching slugs
in the ’03 blazer with them bustin’ subs
sh*t turnt to eleven, bumpin’ busta bust
and the marijuana trees that we puff’s a must
smoke large quantities from dusk to dusk
i’ma tell you one time, “don’t f*ck with us”
white styrofoam cup, sip purple stuff
and you know it ain’t sh*t for my goons to bust
still rocking them khakis with a crease in the cuff
i ain’t poppin’ no mollies and i ain’t sippin’ no syrup
i’m just smokin’ on something potent with some girls who deserve it, it’s worth it
you worthless with them weak ass flows
all these married rappers acting like they still got hoes
all these broke rappers rapping like they still got dough
but we know that you should stay in your lane, you’re too slow for me
so holler if you smoke crystal meth
sorry, that was f*cking weird
[chorus: oliver francis]
all we do is sit around, smoke weed
bad b*tch at the crib shoo*whee
and the whip so clean
brand new car with the brand new seats
all we do is sit around, smoke weed
bad b*tch at the crib shoo*whee
and the whip so clean
brand new car with the brand new seats

[verse 2: slvter]
walk to the door, door not open
got four fat hoes in the four*wide focus
four fat burgers in the courtyard lurkin’
with the purses and the ass
white boy surfin’ through the crown steady chirpin’ like
n*gga, what your name be?
that ain’t who i came to see
spittin’ silly rhymes that rhyme to get your mind right
i’m like 7’5 with the mic in my hand
pair of jordan’s for the b*tches with the stains in they bed
james brown with the flow, sh*t, i’m cruisin’ on the low
two*seater with your ho
backstab your ass with the quickness
i’m like 55 in the mentions with the haterade mentions
it’s all good though, i know you see me on the low
old sucka ass, busta ass, pull up in my door
a pair of flip flops with the chris rock
smokin’ on the roof top
chillin’ with that new cop
99 souls was the flow that i used to rock
now i’m back at it like the n*gga with the blue top
now i’m back at it like a n*gga used to shoot rocks
but i ain’t mad at you just incase you thought i lacked up n*gga
sh*t, so don’t act tough n*gga
you need to back up n*gga
‘fore these lines start f*ckin’ with your mind
and i ain’t gonna let ’em start f*ckin with mines
even though that ass attract me, i’m runnin’ like track meets
even though that ass attract me, i’m runnin’ like track meets
the weed’s a power that comes attack me

- oliver francis lyrics

Random Song Lyrics :

Popular