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king bap – chanel lyrics

i got two c’s up on my..
i got two c’s kicks
i got two c’s up on my b-tch

i got two c’s up on my kicks

(chorus)

i got two c’s up on my kicks cause they chanel
cuffs linked on my buckle say that’s her favorite belt
i got biscotti by the duffel
you can prolly trace the smell
i blazed as h-ll
if the police stop me i’ll be facing jail

i got two c’s up on my kicks cause they chanel
cuffs linked on my buckle say that’s her favorite belt
im double cuppin’
f-ck the law
they can place me in a cell
try to cuff me i won’t tussle cause i know i’m making bail

(verse 1)

i’m tryna see you drop ya pants and spread your thighs
she f-cked me on the first date
and i wasn’t that suprised
b-tch i got that juice like tropicana
keep my fanta spiked
a gram of white and she gone pop that p-ssy like a can of sprite

b-tch its bap
i got that flame like candle lights
i got my mental set on stacking up my cash to camel heights
i hit the lot and seen the one and n-gg- yea that lambo nice
i copped the porsche because it got some torque
and plus it handle tight
i be running through these b-tches
i can’t never spend the night
i’ll be running through some bands if i can get my demo right
i can’t stand a groupie ho
me and the bros we spin those type
my vv’s bussing our that patek once it hit the limo lights
this b-tch tryna grab my d-ck she finna rip my fendi jeans (stop it)
i’m balling on they neck the ref gone have to intervene
you can tryna me if you want i’m cooking beer like jimmy dean
imma spin a n-gg- street and hop out let that semi scream (boom)

(chorus)

(verse 2)
i be b-ttoned down in louie
pin stripes and gucci socks
i got these groupies hot
she finna make that coochie pop
she blowing on my d-ck
like what you do when food be hot
i be blowin 41 i’m in a coup i lose the top
i lose a hater everyday
i need change my att-tude
i’m humble when i’m stuntin i make a n-gg- glad to lose
i’m so high up on this money n-gg- peep my lat-tude
i just f-cked a surfer chick
she said this d-ck was radical
b-tch you know im packin’ tools and steaming pot like ratatouille
brodie packing too
we do fn’s, macs and uzi’s
i got these clips
i sit a n-gg- down
he at the movies
if that blunt ain’t got connected in it b-tch don’t p-ss it to me
driving drunk crash the hooptie
stage diving grabbing b–bies
smashing groupies
punching fans try me you gone have to sue me
i keep that pistol on me like someone attached to me
i got my k!llers in the cut i have em bring ya casket to me

(chorus)

- king bap lyrics

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