gringo the mc – the flex lyrics
lil mama you can’t hustle me for s-x
(’cause i was at the trap back when they called that hoe the flex)
you can ask my mama ’bout the times i called collect
(’cause i was at the trap back when they called that hoe the flex)
never sold crack but i’ll prescribe these b-tches x
(’cause i was at the trap back when they called that hoe the flex)
you don’t hit my blunt ‘less you put something in my chest
(’cause i was at the trap back when they called that hoe the flex, when they called that hoe the flex)
before parole and andy’s baby, we were drinking brandy daily
now it tastes the worst but back then that sh-t was candy baby
hollered “f-ck the judge” and rolled a blunt with every chance he gave me
wavin’ black flags like henry rollins no they can’t contain me
d-mn, you must not know who i am bruh, i f-cked with jimmy when his hoes called him bamm bruh
i hit the jitney when it’s past 1am, and i got warrants drive the best that you can bruh
the police came we locked the door and said “f-ck it”
half the party’s on probation the rest already runnin’ (ru-run-ru-runnin’)
i never sold it i just watched ’em count $100’s
and since then money’s all that i wanted
(whoadie whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
the party don’t stop
the keg ain’t got a bottom and these girls ain’t got a top
(whoadie whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
the party don’t stop
’cause everybody knows the baddest b-tch the last to drop
lil mama you can’t hustle me for s-x
(’cause i was at the trap back when they called that hoe the flex)
you can ask my mama ’bout the times i called collect
(’cause i was at the trap back when they called that hoe the flex)
never sold crack but i’ll prescribe these b-tches x
(’cause i was at the trap back when they called that hoe the flex)
you don’t hit my blunt ‘less you put something in my chest
(’cause i was at the trap back when they called that hoe the flex, when they called that hoe the flex)
pull up in the hippie van, smoke a blunt with biggy’s dad
his mama cook me food his sister tells me that i’m still the man
that’s that sh-t that feels the best, family who got different blunt
anytime i need a favor i know i can hit ’em up
ya’ll know that you got it made, soon as i get dollars saved
’til then f-ck it crack a beer, tell me how the ganja tastes
heard that rello caught a case? murder that’s a lot of days
rickey got a new crib, but i feel like it’s not the same
now they know i got the flame, same that ocho cinco did
remember when they called me lame and hollered “f-ck that gringo kid”
now my nuts sw-ng and scr-pe the floor ’cause i’m the king of sh-t
but d-mn i miss the flex, rip and sh-t
(whoadie whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
the party don’t stop
the keg ain’t got a bottom and these girls ain’t got a top
(whoadie whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
the party don’t stop
’cause everybody knows the baddest b-tch the last to drop
lil mama you can’t hustle me for s-x
(’cause i was at the trap back when they called that hoe the flex)
you can ask my mama ’bout the times i called collect
(’cause i was at the trap back when they called that hoe the flex)
never sold crack but i’ll prescribe these b-tches x
(’cause i was at the trap back when they called that hoe the flex)
you don’t hit my blunt ‘less you put something in my chest
(’cause i was at the trap back when they called that hoe the flex, when they called that hoe the flex)
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