the pit - the diplomats lyrics
[j.r. writer]
holla
no sorrow haters wrapped in a tahoe
for all those who saw j smash the apollo yikes
all covered in ice like i was standing in times square
on “the day after tomorrow” holla
i’m in to bigger dough, sicker flow
rocky dial what make it possible to rocky-bow hit your ho
i feel like bigelow cause ever since i got the churp number
all i been hearing was bleep like the springer show
i got poppa al money you got pocket-style money
doggie, these maurie’s try a thou’ dunny
girl’s dropping wild funny
soon as i step in and want to grab on the gator like crocodile dundy
see i’m the worst round, you’ll hit the dirt ground
i surf towns in jaguars that’s dirt brown
i know it hurt clown, to see me laid in a suite
under sheets, stuffed with more feathers than a first down
comfortable
[h-ll rell]
yo
i copped a couple k’s for the beef when it goes down
i told n-ggas that they couldn’t eat in they own town
f-ck off the strip, for i bust off a clip
my time is money i got to get the f-ck off this brick
follow me around and we’ll see the life of a hustler
follow you around and we’ll see the life of a buster
beat down, smacked up, robbed every minute
and my soldiers, they treat me like i’m god every minute
hot as a f-ck, but don’t get acknowledged enough
this is grade-a piff you got garbage to puff
and when it come to my rocks get it polished and buffed
same thing with your girl i get polished and buffed
a few bricks on the table, i’m smoking by the pound
if i don’t blow i’m on the next thing smoking out of town
i’m sitting on grenades, i’m sitting on some blades
yay, flip it suede fitted sitting on my braids
n-gga i got gats to tuck and cadillac the truck
i deal with mathematics homeboy and you ain’t adding up
two plus two don’t equal five
i eat the truth but feed you lies you b-tch n-gga
and i ain’t ask to come through, man i’m barging out
from now on you address me as ?
[40 cal]
i’m the kid from 140 baby
40 making all the cake
my dope like tsunami, i k!ll ’em off a water weight
you play 50 get your story straight
n-ggas up in 50 minus 2, that’s ya number due, the 48
well do the math, the n-gga’s a problem
you broke, ya dead broke when i k!ll ’em and rob ’em
40, n-ggas think they can call shots
y’all ain’t got no winds you lost hair like a bald spot
you want the 2pac shakur props?
but it’s like a disease now cause all y’all got is smallpox
and that’s off top at ya door with 4 knocks
40 catch vicks in they halls like coughdrops
porsche box, school you how to sell the c0ke-a
cause “diplomat” without the “t” spells diploma
tryna, tell you dolja, the flame in ya -ss
the game in a smash, 40 keep his name in a stash
you the type to go to jail, turn ya name to shebazz
i’m a menace, the o-dog with the ‘caine on the ave
40
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