Frank Lucas歌词

作词 : Frederick J. Tipton/Jeremie Pennick
作曲 : Frederick J. Tipton/Jeremie Pennick/Alan D. Maman
Might just spill over on you
Okay, I'm trying baby
N*gga, my name is c*caine
Yeah, uh, uh
You n*ggas snitchin' gettin' time shaved
Sold the book on my boost mobile, I boost the crime rate
Tellin' all my hoes that I love 'em, I'm playin' mind games
And b*tches after your last dollar, they take your last name
I'm married to this sh*t, I jumped off the porch then I jumped the room
Bunny Rabbit gang, we be robbin' sh*t like like the Romper Room
Catch your Uber or lyzift, I sent the rezith
The feds wanna turn the witness, I plead the fizith
Been smokin' since 13, I fried my brain, so I ain't never stressin'
I can't hold no grudges, Michael Thomas, b*tch, I'm catchin' blessings
Police tryna catch me, ain't gon' catch me ridin' without my weapon
Panoramic roof off of on that coupe, I look like George Jetson Space Ghost
Fentanyl, got a gas mask when I make d*pe
I done seen a lot of OG's at this table havin' you taste d*pe
I just got another case though, call me lawyer, hit him with the pesos
Gotta cook a bird where the J's stay, got a play play for the yayo
Been thuggin' since a youngin', I'm too legit to quit
I keep this b*tch in like my kinship, bustin' shots at the b*tch
I had the strap, she took the charge, I took that b*tch on the trip
Flew in her friends, jumped on the boat, I f*cked them both
Sh*t was lit, sh*t was lit
Pray my soul keep dead low or lay me down
The SWAT team might machine gun or grenade me down
And if they do tear my people, just hold my babies down
N*gga we need to go back the pages like it's the eighties now
Yeah, f*ck rap, b*tch, I'm poppin' off of poppy seed
My name c*caine ain't got put me in the nominees
Since gangsta gears rolled back the bars, I see a lot of me
N*ggas is my sons, I wish they mommas would have swallowed these
N*gga, cappin' ass n*gga
Jeezy used to say "Boy, you one rappin' ass n*gga"
I said I'm shippin' packs, I don't need no advance, n*gga
N*ggas thought I took a loss, but I jumped off
And I got richer, sh*t is funny when you think about it
Rolex too big, I took a link up out it
Frank Lucas I hit the closet, pulled the mink up out it
Livin' this life, p*ssy dream about it, n*gga
Bury me with ratchets, let the feds tell it, apparently a magnum
Gucci hoodie smell like kerosine and ashes
Don't get carried away, I been up and look how carefully I stack it
Got your advance check buried in the mattress
We the Yankees on the pennant run
You in need of soldiers, heard you rented some
Tellin' war stories and you ain't been in none
But look what I converted to from lettin' burners loose out convertibles
My b*tch gon' be the driver for a purse or two
Nah, my finger never gon' point
You know p*ssy best when it's moist
Got a hammer and a brick from a plug I met in a joint
Miami, Superbowl weekend, I got head in a Royce
We chasin' cheddar of course, I wouldn't care if it's Deutsch
It was either law school or dog food
If I was makin' y'all moves, we all lose
Make these sucker n*ggas pay, those was our rules
You gon' need more guns and lucky horse shoes
I never took an L, but a few loss to mind
New loft down town and this view was hard to find
Sold lines to abusers, now I'ma abuse y'all with lines
I'm in this black thing, he ain't just a few cars behind
I bought two of everything, they said "dude lost his mind"
Two gold Cubans, like I'm tryin' too hard to shine
Two whips, one a coupe that's too small to drive
Two-car garage, two broad massage, yeah
N*ggas think I be frontin'
But I just be talkin' that real sh*t
I don't expect anybody to feel it though
'Cause y'all n*ggas not like that (Nobody talk that sh*t like I talk that sh*t n*gga, let's go)
With this .9 I got from the district, I'm shoppin' for Christian
I'm in Vegas drippin' in jewelry I got from the district
They say hustlin' like a disease, I'ma die with the symptoms
Put three hundred grams on a brick, cut the pie into sixes
The Butcher comin', n*gga