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cutthroatcrew - 120 lyrics

[hook]

shorty hit my line, she call my phone, i don’t got time for her
how can i find the time when i’m so dripped down in designer? huh
rick owens be my pants, up on my kicks i’m rockin prada huh
they told me take a chance, up on my sh+t, uppin my dollar huh

count fifty, a hunnit, a hunnit and twenty
b+tch i’m in the section with pockets of money
it’s sticking together like pots full of honey
might cop me a tesla the battery runny

the pants was a rack, baby i’m going dummy
i rock alexander, these n+ggas look bummy
my chain hanging low, coming down to my tummy
i been popping my sh+t, so they look at me funny

[verse]

okay
b+tch look at my tee, peep my st++ze, for’ i take my shirt off
20 bills on my feet, watch your step for’ i kick my dirt off
cutthroat why you material?
cuz i ain’t had sh+t
pull out the bl!ck start blasting
pop like 1+2 acid
body go flaccid
came out the ground no casket
i’m pulling out cheat codes no talking
look at my moves n+ggas jocking
they follow what i do cause n+ggas stalking
if they f+cking up my mood i get to flocking
i do a little cleaning with no mop stick
i’m picking up the dirt from when i dropped it
i’m feeling sick and tired, i’m exhausted
cause i can’t see his vision in my optics

these n+ggas got empty pockets, empty vessels
ain’t n0body gon touch my bezels
i write out the script no pencil
i ain’t no cook but i got untensils

she froze when she seen my pesos
now i ride around town she gon do what i say so
i’m a demon you could keep your halo
gotta shoot his ass down with a all black draco

do you think that i care what you did with that?
a problem, a issue, i handle that
he a b+tch so i gave him his handle back
hollow tips they gon fill up this amo bag
cuz my brother a shooter go ratatat
if you f+ck up the plan you could have it back
musketeer with the blade he gon have it bad
he could talk all he wants i ain’t having that
[hook]

shorty hit my line, she call my phone, i don’t got time for her
how can i find the time when i’m so dripped down in designer? huh
rick owens be my pants, up on my kicks i’m rockin prada huh
they told me take a chance, up on my sh+t, uppin my dollar huh

count fifty, a hunnit, a hunnit and twenty
b+tch i’m in the section with pockets of money
it’s sticking together like pots full of honey
might cop me a tesla the battery runny

the pants was a rack, baby i’m going dummy
i rock alexander, these n+ggas look bummy
my chain hanging low, coming down to my tummy
i been popping my sh+t, so they look at me funny

- cutthroatcrew lyrics

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