Karate Chop (feat. Casino)

歌詞

You know, this just some real nigga shit, a real nigga story You know what I'm saying? Slang a bunch of narcotics Pull up in the new 'rrari Livin' like John Gotti Choppin' bricks like karate Drink a bunch of codeine Serve it to the dope fiends Blowin' money, stay clean Michael Jackson, Billie Jean Got a Panamera round a young nigga neck Got a young bitch pulling up in a 'Vette Smoke a lot of kush & I have a lot of sex Had to beat the grind up, ran up my check Picture nigga getting money, nigga get back (back) Roll a blunt of chronic, nigga sell a lot of crack (crack) You can hit a nigga line, order what you want I can whoop a Maserati, pulling up a donk (donk) 50,000 on yo watch, young nigga splurge (splurge) Pop a ace of spade bottle, sip a lot of syrup (syrup) Keep a young nigga workin' that'll bust a k (k) I'mma take a phone call, hustle everyday (everyday) Slang a bunch of narcotics (then what) Pull up in that new rarri (yea) Living like John Gotti (the mob) Chopping bricks like karate (chwaaa) (chwaaa) Drink a bunch of codeine (drank) Serving to the dope fiends (they smokers) Blowing money, stay clean (free bands) Michael Jackson, Billy Jean Whipping up a cake, just to go and snatch a spider (spider) Young nigga play with ki's, (ki's) like a type writer Al Capone, John Gotti was a nigga idol I was never snitching, I can put it on the Bible In a 4 door Bimmer, driving with a rifle Nigga where you at, (at) nigga we go pull up on ya Young Bitch looking like Janet in the 80's (80's) We was grinding up from two and a baby (oh) Got the girl dripping wet like a jerry curl (curl) Got a styrofoam cup and its full of syrup Send it over from New Mexico & Let me Work (lets work) I can get 36 for a clean shirt (shirt) Slang a bunch of narcotics (then what) Pull up in that new rarri (yea) Living like John Gotti (the mob) Chopping bricks like karate (chwaaa) (chwaaa) Drink a bunch of codeine (drank) Serving to the dope fiends (they smokers) (yeah) Blowing money, stay clean (free bands) Michael Jackson, Billy Jean Who bad Hol' up sir, you in my Rari Money like I'm Frank Matthews Killers around me like I'm Gotti If I tricked you, know I'm sorry I be fresh don't need no stylist I be geeking on them mollies Sell remix don't sell no cleans My hand like a triple beam I got workers like machine All I do is sell dreams Have my niggas serve fiends I get up and then I lean