ale the man feat. chris $treets - full court press lyrics
yeah, ale the man
aye
full court press
foots on necks
full on flex
i make the work stretch
b-tch i’m in the game
he thought he was next
now he on the bench
got that n-gga vexed
what the f-ck is stress?
i only smoke the best
i rolled up an eighty then i smoked it to the neck
traffickin’ that og move a p a week or less
tell me where you at i’ll put it in my gps
cop designer sneakers just to wear em with my sweats
my main b-tch a diva but she nasty like alexis
f-ck a city girl i need a stallion from texas
houston in the pm might just dm meg, aye
i sent her them heart eyes and she took it to the head
that’s just what i needed got my nut off and i fled
you spend your time chasing hoes and i chase dough instead
don’t know why you gettin’ mad you should be gettin’ bread, aye
i eat beats for breakfast
i get checks by lunchtime
spend it on my -ssets
my crew young and reckless
we strapped up like drum line
please don’t disrespect us
i think i’m a chemist
i take the b-ss and make it rock like hendrix
they call me the big man
call me big streets
call me mister wop
n-ggas peppa piggas
n-ggas all opps
had to spin the block
get his top popped
i’ma double back
i don’t think he got shot
n-ggas jb smoove
all they money funny
even comin’ up n-gga
we was never bummy
we could make it rock
we could make it shake
had keep it goin’ i ain’t never take a breaks
ridin’ in the stoley yeah
you know we switched the plates
i’m scared to press the gas ’cause the sh-t about to break
but they call me big streets
but they call me big streets
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