h.p.i.c. - tanboys lyrics
[hook: bodega bamz]
i’m the h.p.i.c; head papi in charge
alejandro sosa, pablo escobar
fiction and facts, plastic or saran wraps
real life shit, talking ’bout y’all
i’m the h.p.i.c: head papi in charge
alejandro sosa, pablo escobar
fiction and facts, plastic or saran wraps
real life shit, talking ’bout y’all
[verse 1: bodega bamz]
finger fucking the b-tches of all these famous rap stars
who cares about money they put my name next to yours
i don’t wanna make friends, just making ends with the bars
i’m tired of hearing the same old fucking song
what happened to thugs? it’s like there’s only room for love
everybody is cool, they all a part of one blood
well fuck illuminati, fuck a mason, all above
this is rap, where’s the competition?
just a bunch of hoes, catching feelings, quiet dissing
i’m from where you say, “fuck that nigga”
and say his name in his face and pull the trigger
too many lawyers, not enough law breakers
everybody’s vocal, bring the jawbreakers backstage
niggas copping pleas, get on twitter with a different story
my heart chilly like palmer, that’s what you get, shorty
i’m not concerned with the riches they see
’cause every dog has his day, even vicious as me
[hook: bodega bamz]
i’m the h.p.i.c; head papi in charge
alejandro sosa, pablo escobar
fiction and facts, plastic or saran wraps
real life shit, talking ’bout y’all
[verse 2: lil eto]
feeling like papi, peluche
ponchalo, [?]
mantequilla, dulce
cocina, they know me now
and i ain’t make a hundred thousand yet
but i’m still the h.p.i.c. on my set
money came and went, but i never left
like [?] on the goal with his bible in the fold
real niggas gotta stay blessed
couple hundred dollars i fumbled with and i made it work
i huddle up with gualas, my youngin shit in his favorite shirt
we’ll gun ’em up for products, then stuff a spliff with a 8th of dirt
punching in the clock and then hugging strips ’cause he hates the work
tucking in the cops, with a rubber grip and it spray berserk
if one of us get shot, pray it doesn’t hit by the brain and smirk
you groveling or not, all that fronting shit get you slayed and murked
if you ain’t alert, i won’t change it first
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