baby smoove - '04 iverson lyrics
[intro]
y’all motherf+ckas need to g+ngb+ng them books
instead of tryna be somethin’ y’all ain’t
sh+t, you never know
’cause i might be the one to k!ll yo’ motherf+ckin’ ass
[verse]
i’m in off+white, but i’m still sippin’ red
fat booty b+tch ’bouta make me break the bed
it ain’t sherbet in my wood, ’bouta take it to the head
i ain’t even ask for it, but she givin’ me the head
stack so f+ckin’ thick i wouldn’t even try to spread it
pineapple fanta ’bouta make the orange reddish
i’ll block a b+tch number, she ain’t nothin’ but a headache
i’ll pull up from the three like i’m jj red+ck
i’ll buy the whole pint, n+gga, if the price right
you can’t talk to my b+tches, none of my hoes nice
why your neck so cloudy? boy, your chain look dry
sh+t, i think it’s ’04, ballin’ like i’m ai
get your best friend iced, he don’t wanna play now
when i get a lil’ hungry, i look for a steakhouse
put a down payment on you it’s gon’ be a stakeout
i just got some head from her, we ain’t never make out
boy, right hand to god, i’ll bring the bank out
it don’t matter what you want, boy i know a safe route
sh+t, my chef from j+pan, but it ain’t no takeout
ridin’ ’round in the coupe, just me and my k now
he done took a couple pills, now he think he superman
playin’ with the right one, he gon’ end up in the can
i’m in saks fifth now with 8,000 in my hand
i’m about to really spend this, you ain’t ever seen a ten
lucky that i wanna rap, i still got fire bins
nah, this exotic weed, that’ll knock out your wind
i was arguin’ with you, but i done swung on your mans
this b+tch head was too average, i done gave her to the clan
boy, i got real money, way more than just bands
put some phones in the air, i’m not f+ckin’ with no tens
two pints waitin’ on me, i’ma get ’em when i land
fat wood of pink clutches, it’ll put you in the end
boy, you so f+ckin’ dumb, i can’t teach you no scams
you don’t got no hoes either you can’t even move no grams
boy, prison can’t save you i’ma just [?]
hangin’ with a hundred rounds, shoot the phone out your hands
you lil’ snitchin’ ass n+gga, you would tell on your mans
sh+t, it’s six in the morning, and i’m pouring up again
tell the bank all fifties, it’s some strawberry jam
smoke comin’ out the tip, but i bet it won’t jam
ridin’ in a big benz
see a n+gga walk up in all black bandana
got so much f+ckin’ sauce sh+t, they know that i be scammin’
one k on some shoes i won’t wear ’em again
boy, if i tell her to, she’ll f+ck on my mans
lost a dog over a b+tch it’ll never make sense
seven hundred for my hoodie i just bought it just to wear it
when i step in the room, all these b+tches just stare
these is 7.62s they’ll knock down a bear
make sure that wig tight, ’cause i’m pullin’ all hair
broke n+ggas out here, i do not at all care
when you n+ggas out here i do not at all fare
[outro]
i do not at all
i do not at all
pull up, and i’ll shoot like i’m jj red+ck
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