waka flocka flame – drops lyrics
[intro]
see, we did sh-t for the streets
my n-gg-s in them chain gang
all my guys behind the walls
where my mom-fed -ss n-gg-s at?
[chorus: jimmy rocket]
thirty hanging out the glock
n-gg- play, gon’ hit his top (for real)
sending shots back to the opps
like a picture, he get cropped
i was just a young n-gg-
like embiid, i hit the block (volume 6)
got ’em thinking we custodians
’cause the traphouse full of mops
i just f-cked your b-tch in crocs
you kissed her and she gave me top
.40 on me, i don’t box
my n-gg-s f-ck up the game like a…
[interlude: dj big tiny]
your man dj big tiny
trapaholics
volume 6
for the streets
for the world
hoodrich, b-tch
[chorus: jimmy rocket]
thirty hanging out the glock
n-gg- play, gon’ hit his top (for real)
sending shots back to the opps
like a picture, he get cropped
i was just a young n-gg-
like embiid, i hit the block
got ’em thinking we custodians
’cause the traphouse full of mops
i just f-cked your b-tch in crocs
you kissed her and she gave me top
.40 on me, i don’t box
my n-gg-s f-ck up the game like a bot
ain’t talkin’ dora, we was takin’ sh-t like the fox
you play, you get put in a box
i heard you were snitching
just like a radio station
boy your -ss givin’ out drops
[verse 1: waka flocka flame]
lingo, lingo, lingo (flocka)
you be screaming bands, i be sayin’ crates
you call it a mansion, i call it the estate
you be sayin’ drip, we call it the lake (the lake)
you say you gettin’ bread, they know i’m gettin’ cake (you know)
my lingo old-school, your lingo new-school
million dollar studio, you still usin’ pro tools, my lingo
is crispy like a c-note
i’m in a g5 blowin’ good weed smoke
we are not the same (no), we in a different league (yeah)
cut from a different cloth, boy, i’m from a different breed
i talk different, crate money, we talking fortunes
countin’ up a half a billion in a fortress (flexin’)
big drip, but i’m somethin’ like a big lake (squad)
just know it cost and course these bullets faster than a porsche
i dump ashes on your corpse if you f-ck with jimmy (rocket)
[chorus: jimmy rocket]
thirty hanging out the glock
n-gg- play, gon’ hit his top (for real)
sending shots back to the opps
like a picture, he get cropped
i was just a young n-gg-
like embiid, i hit the block
got ’em thinking we custodians
’cause the traphouse full of mops
i just f-cked your b-tch in crocs
you kissed her and she gave me top
.40 on me, i don’t box
my n-gg-s f-ck up the game like a bot
ain’t talkin’ dora, we was takin’ sh-t like the fox
you play, you get put in a box
i heard you were snitching
just like a radio station
boy your -ss givin’ out drops
[verse 2: jimmy rocket]
don’t f-ck with the cops
the way i’m dressin’, boy, i been had the rocks
the stick get to clappin’ like it’s giving props
it’s a homicide, police bringin’ out the chalk
n-gg-s’ mama cryin’, ’cause son died, they fault
on his block, we gon’ make it hot
potato barrel, that’s a tater tot
i’m going down like a moron
extendo longer than my forearm
b-tterfly doors, coc–n
sticks, they lookin’ like brooms
banana clip on the baboon, huh, huh
i got ’em watching like toons
lil’ jimmy take off to the moon, huh, huh
they keep on askin’ when the tape dropping
that sh-t coming soon, huh, huh
my lil’ n-gg- tote the mac
and he gon’ spray it like perfume, huh, huh
[chorus: jimmy rocket]
thirty hanging out the glock
n-gg- play, gon’ hit his top (for real)
sending shots back to the opps
like a picture, he get cropped
i was just a young n-gg-
like embiid, i hit the block
got ’em thinking we custodians
’cause the traphouse full of mops
i just f-cked your b-tch in crocs
you kissed her and she gave me top
.40 on me, i don’t box
my n-gg-s f-ck up the game like a bot
ain’t talkin’ dora, we was takin’ sh-t like the fox
you play, you get put in a box
i heard you were snitching
just like a radio station
boy your -ss givin’ out drops
[verse 3: waka flocka flame]
you can walk outside, then boom, now you’re dead today
life could be a meme, b-tch, or she could be a golden child
poverty and welfare, growin’ up as a poster child
hitsquad, n-gg-
what they gon’ call me, everything but a broke n-gg-
i remember kicking doors, entire coats, n-gg-
now i’m ridin’ down terra in a ghost, n-gg-
call me flocka, i’ma bet every penny on jimmy
if you touch him, it’s smoke
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