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t.f - olathe lyrics

[roc marciano]
garlic b+tter on the crib [layers?] got em sentimental
heavy tinted windows doing pirouettes with a demon in it
had an oriental, had to get her on the instrumental
she had to hit the track, first trap ain’t no looking back
masked up like i’m cooking meth, i’m like her man back in ’96
and when it comes to beef i’m with it every season, i’m the iron chef
i was 15, i seen a marble floor inside a pyrex
whatchu know about a couple snapple bottles for the sherm sticks?
drive+bys had a thunderbirds, did it acapellas, n+ggas know the word
n+ggas know the vibe, you n+ggas nerves, you don’t know the curb
got a bad b+tch and she play the ‘burbs
and she be dipped out, had to ask if she be selling derb, word to 2+11
mac+11 [mastered black and marys?], spiral bullets made him back peddle
turned his cadillac into road k!ll, cause his trunk had a couple racks in it
lordmobb we the front runners, made men, mad b+tches
this for the n+ggas hatin, ya’ll n+ggas p+ssy: mad b+tches

nine milly made her spine tingle, fine china bring the limes with it
quarter peice i let the dimes hit it, now they laying up, like they rod strickland
ain’t no business like mob business, waking up to a cup of folgers and brand new set of signed b+tches
i’ma bounce back and i’ma dive in it
n+ggas never pictured living through it, fast forward now we getting to it
yeah the l!ck jewish, made the wrist cuban, and that b+tch hitting like it’s straight lewis
we in the hidden hills, probably crushing pills, busting all night watching snl
with the happy ending like fairy tales, chinese with the rusty sh+lls
test lot, we finna break a man, if it don’t bust his head i bet it break his leg
made the breaking news, bandana like omega red
back to pirouettes, wrist shining like mirror tint
50 pointers like pyramids, airheads i could care less
you n+ggas pressure cases, all airbags
i was airing sh+t and i ain’t wear a mask
pulled up with a pair of bags, raw cass, sacs 5th ave
hair+trigger on a colt pony, gave a n+gga wrist whiplash. k!ller. (yeah)
[conway the machine]
started out getting double+ups, had to run it up, got my money up, n+gga hard times never troubled us
got my b+tch dior bubbled up, got her titties done, fixed her stomach up
b+tch talking bout she love me, when i know the difference ‘tween love and l+st
you can miss me with that loyalty sh+t, n+gga i’m the only one i trust
gave these n+ggas racks, fronted n+ggas facts, somehow they still f+ck it up
it’s a cold world better bundle up, p+ssy n+ggas better huddle up
my shooter following my new foreign, and he do the scoring, that’s bubba chub
when i heard the beat i spit bane on it, when i’m brainstorming, n+gga thunderstruck
like rain pouring. can’t convince us that y’all ain’t informants
boogers in the tennis chains enormous, vvs’s and they 80 pointers
f+ck them n+ggas that be hating on us, cause they ain’t important
i don’t want her if she ain’t imported

whippin’ up the cocaine batter, you could get a benz
14, seen a n+gga brain splattered and i didn’t cringe
think about all the little dirt that we did at [ted’s/tens?]
when we used to beat the breaks off a n+ggas bink bonk just like my n+gga nems
lil b+tch mad at me, asked did i hit her friend?
told her no even though i did, and i lowkey plan to hit again
gotta rewind my sh+t, listen closely to the boss for the hidden gems
hidden hills with a trophy, i’m just seeing life through a different lens
i’m a menace to society, b+tch them extendo clips is firing
that’s what a n+gga get for trying me, just look at the rap game now
you see what i facilitated quietly? these n+ggas listening to my tapes
they say “that n+gga way inspired me, i’m just that n+gga b+tch entirely”
gone
[roc marciano]
bet the 5th dim ya lights when i hit the k!ll switch
mwah, that’s a kiss goodnight, n+gga been a l!ck
one through the pillow, in the middle of his head, left his whole sh+t split
woke the old heads up, had the whole city lit
might let him hold 50 if your little jury aren’t gone give me that
i ain’t into mike or mary’s can, 50 cent me in them little skinny pants (f+ck this sh+t)
still send a b+tch word to kenny rag
f+ck the henny, i was sipping rat, in the 6 like a stick of big red
talkin like y’all good, that’s a false bill of goods (cap)
i leave you on the floor spilling blood, throw em in the woods (facts)
pause dawg, i’ma get a wood (get a bone)
actin all boss+hog till a n+gga get cooked

no pork, f+ck a pig foot, treat the porche like i’m driving big foot
when it’s on, n+ggas get shook, it was sorta like they spotted big foot (look)
you ain’t gotta go to school to get booked
i just told my shooter sit put
i just know if it’s about a b+tch, it’s a witch hunt
man a chick could get it, it don’t matter which one
6 million ways to get splattered, pick one (pick one n+gga)
i don’t care how it gotta happen, get it done (get it done)
hit you with a bag, lil n+gga live it up. moss

- t f lyrics

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