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al-doms - slang! lyrics

[chorus]
b+tch i’m tryna get
quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid!
weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, slang!
work that nine+to+five, but can’t let sh+t make me a slave
stuff my pockets ’til them b+tches outta shape!

quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid!
weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, slang!
work that nine+to+five, but can’t let sh+t make me a slave
stuff my pockets ’til them b+tches outta shape!

[verse 1]
okay, i had a vision i was spillin’ whippin’ ferraris, boy
poured cash on my dealer, made him hand me my car keys
bad baby in my passenger, too old for a car seat
drop the top over her head
she drops the top where her bra be
‘cauze just yesterday i was stressin’ for surely
how this kid from virginia gon’ get all his glory
and a crib stacked like bibles man, with all them stories
we just want a full house; danny, jesse and joey
for the twinny twin twins we all+sin (olsen) no folding
coming from a duplex, halfway like parolees
pushin’ piccolo, breaking down green like we mowing
to buff+a+low out my life and pay them bills like they posed be
my bro keep white in the hood like kenny mccormick
he sick of livin’ dormant, his kids dreams enormous
before you get to the “hill+in the cut” neosporin
gotta appreciate the scar that was formin’
[chorus]
‘cuz b+tch i’m tryna get
quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid!
weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, slang!
work that nine+to+five, but can’t let sh+t make me a slave
stuff my pockets ’til them b+tches outta shape!

[verse 2]
see i got bigger plans than penitentiary chances
given circumstance, where most young n+ggas get plugged
into the system like controller panels

moving grams like nursing homes our only scandal
hoping a oz get us down the gold brick road that dorothy ran thru
seeking what the world ain’t hand you? n+gga you gotta take that sh+t!
taught us all these rules just to realize we had to break that sh+t
see these the aspirations of a young n+gga focused on a flip
dodging the fait of a young n+gga buried by 26
okay ‘cuz i ain’t got a lot, i ain’t had a lot
but i want a lot, and just for that i’ll sacrifice a lot
i just wanna let the money talk until it’s jaw lock
just to watch the bread flake on ’em like a croissant
sheesh!
[chorus]
’cause b+tch i’m tryna get
quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid!
weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, slang!
work that nine+to+five, but can’t let sh+t make me a slave
stuff my pockets ’til them b+tches outta shape!

- al doms lyrics

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