pressa - freeze tag* lyrics
[intro: pressa]
uh, yeah
the cuban links play freeze tag up on the wrist, ayy
the cuban links play freeze tag up on the wrist, for real
yeah, uh
[verse 1: pressa]
way too much blood, sweat and tears for a n+gga
[?] 50,000 on a thriller
your boyfriend a b+tch you know he a f+ck n+gga
[?] so i don’t need to k!ll it
[?] got a lil’ bit of money
your boyfriend a b+tch, you postin’ that n+gga money
kidnap a n+gga and his b+tch, lil’ sonny
kidnap a n+gga and his b+tch, sike, sonny
if we see opps we gon’ slide on the opps
i was at the studio where ‘pac got shot
i was selling crack and mama said stop
i was selling crack, mama said get a job (for real)
b+tch i’m in the hood like the crack like biggie
shoulda seen my n+gga how he did the whole 80
my n+ggas go crazy, [?] 80
whole lotta junkies, i was kicking it with any
na na na na, i’m the realest as it gеt
people call me prеssa ’cause i don’t got stretch
crodie going crazy with an audemar piguet
i keep on tellin’ mama we ain’t runnin’ out of bread
na na na na, ’cause sh+t too easy
porsche chasin’ n+gga [?] weezy
cold in this [?] bikini
and i’m with houdini, he gon’ play like [?]
and she know nothing, she got nothing to rat on
she could fall off and get up and get back on
and when she grow up she wanna go get her bag on
[?] camron
[verse 2: northsidebenji]
yeah, see i started in the trap on the day shift
n+gga, whoever knew that i would make it?
see, i been gettin’ [?]
on my feet, i’m tryna feel this [?]
my dog he open up new locks up with them ki’s (for real, yeah)
see i just sent out 2 new glocks out with that cheese
the cuban links play freeze tag up on the wrist
[?] on a b+tch (for real)
and i got shooters in the game like ea
i know a couple real k!ller like [?]
and all this envy in their hearts, it’s a pity
i just [?] in me, for real, dawg
[verse 4: tory lanez]
ayy, i got a similar stash up in the city
forgiato dip on the dash what i got in it
it’s a pretty little b+tch with a bag and print infinity
and any n+gga winnin’, they got similar tags to what i’m spinnin’
i got big big money on the bag my n+gga
my b+tch’ll f+ck me on the jet and get no lag my n+gga
it’s called [?], how i get a bag my n+gga
it’s no brag, p+ssy n+gga know the tab n+gga
i got a lamborghini m+ffler, got heat, ayy
and i gotta trap house that’s doubling every week, ayy
then i got a rolls, big slippers on the toes
just so i could stunt up on these n+ggas with the feet
still i got the trap jumpin’ in a b
my shooter got a mag dumpin’ in their jeans
n+ggas hatin’ on me, flak comin’ out his t++th
’cause ain’t no p+ssy sh+t ain’t ever come up out of me, no no no
[verse 5: houdini]
made a couple hundred racks and never even had to sit up in the bando
ayy, rickety rack after rack, stack ’til it can’t fold, 100s and 50s
cro’ on the run and he still got them glizzys
ain’t tryna f+ck if i don’t got no jimmy’s
come make a milli’ while i’m independent
she got a thing for a young n+gga livin’
that n+gga washed like he doin’ the dishes
love it when you call a n+gga big daddy
make a n+gga wanna get a big patek
been in the trap with [?]
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