loudpack kap - 2000 miles lyrics
[intro: loudpack kap]
n+gga be in full go+mode like 24/8, you know?
we gon’ get straight to that bag every time
like don’t give a f+ck
[verse 1: loudpack kap]
came from the bottom of the map, just drove two thousand miles
n+gga say it’s smoke, we ’bout that smoke, but we don’t smoke no milds
i’m just tryna get it, why you actin’ crazy, talkin’ wild?
knowin’ when i catch you lackin’, lord knows it’s goin’ down
broad day or nighttime, this sh+t here worth a lifetime
these n+ggas talkin’ cray, they ain’t got nan’ cool, then lay ’em down
tell him pick his coins up, but i can’t never drop no dime
gun powder from the carbine, boy, i love to bust that iron
you say you gettin’ money, i say you not, i guess somebody lyin’
n+gga say it’s drill time, we slidin’, guess somebody dyin’
it sound like you readin’ when you rap, you n+ggas barely rhymin’
you n+ggas rockin’ cheap diamonds, them b+tches barely shinin’
[verse 2: the real drippy]
okay, your b+tch head was too good, i had to double back
them n+ggas act like snakes, you know them birds don’t f+ck with that
i just walked inside the jeweler and i spent a couple racks
now them diamonds in my face black like kyla pratt
i get dior out of neimans, i get off+white out of saks
i hit my b+tch from the back, then wrote “drippy” on her back (ayy)
my crib so tall, i think i need an elevator
i remember bein’ hungry, livin’ off a generator
i just bought a .223, them n+ggas better not f+ck with me
okay, my diamonds black and yellow like a f+ckin’ bumblebee
drippy iverson, i just broke a b+tch for thirty+three
she was thirty+three, i think i met her at the doubletree
[verse 3: 10.4 chauncy]
black hoodie, black ski mask, when we slide, we gotta keep them sticks inside the trash bag
sk and the m1 carbine come with the extended mag
n+gga know when we run down, we put that beam right on your ass
young n+gga right on your ass
pop out like i’m jason, it’s ’bout to get ugly like freddy krueger
so watch your mouth before you n+ggas lose it
b+tch, i go dumb just like the three stooges
these n+ggas faker than these action movies
if you ask me, these n+ggas big clueless
[outro: sauce walka]
ooh+wee, ooh+wee
yeah, man, you know what i’m talkin’ ’bout, you lil’ funky+ass b+tch?
that’s how we drippin’ and splashin’ down in the motherf+ckin’ south
bunch of diamonds in our motherf+ckin’ mouth, you know what i’m talkin’ ’bout?
from texas to florida in that motherf+ckin’ order, we right by the motherf+ckin’ water, you know what i’m talkin’ ’bout?
from the bottom of miami all to the way to back to california for a grammy, you know what i’m talkin’ ’bout?
on the beach where it’s sandy with a b+tch named sandy, you under+splash me?
yeah, man, know what i’m talkin’ ’bout, all about these chips, though
all about, that drip, though, you know what i’m talkin’ ’bout?
you f+ckin’ with kap and we ain’t talkin’ ’bout nothin’ that go on your head
we talkin’ ’bout this motherf+ckin’ bread instead
yeah, man, we out in motherf+ckin’ miami with the real motherf+ckin’ haitians with the real motherf+ckin’ gangsters
and we done came down to texas to get real motherf+ckin’ reckless
benz and rolexes
diamonds on the necklace
drippy, drippy, drippy
you b+tch+ass n+ggas can’t get with me
it’s tsf motherf+ckin’ business
we splashin’ all around this motherf+cker
p+ssy+ass n+gga
now tell your b+tch to get her motherf+ckin’ ho up
so you can get your dough up
so you can, punk ass can grow up, ooh+wee
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