| Look, drippin', all I got is juice
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| All about my business and still ain’t buy the suit
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| Women still follow suits, them nigga’s go follow too
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| As long as you got a bottle them models gonna swallow too
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| She probably gonna swallow two
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| Me and my homeboy, it’s hard to gargle the truth
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| Girl do what you got to do
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| I ain’t givin' her cat the head, though; |
| dog, I ain’t Dr. Seuss
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| I’ve been talkin' that knowledge my followin' is the proof
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| Is that rhymes that’s got 'em hostage or am I just kinda cute?
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| I’m not Vietnamin' they troops, whenever I got to shoot
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| Don’t be tryin' no photobomb, got to stay picture perfect
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| Sick for certain, but still got a whole lot to prove
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| Whenever I got the booth, I get to slaughterin' you
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| My slobberin' 'cause no pool and another loss of a tooth
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| Use a artist carcass for food, oh you thought you caught the flu
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| Yeah, you thought you were sick, until I brought you the soup
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| Your family oughta sue, seen your lyrical gat' man
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| What you gonna do with that?
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| You nigga’s couldn’t kill jack
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| You lookin' just like Aku, like cartoons
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| Was the diamond in the rough, now Cozz the one that drop jewels
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| Still tryin' to cop jewels, a couple of cars too
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| Menage with some large boobs, but don’t you call me no fool
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| I know none of these thing is real
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| Yeah, trust me I see it well, it’s the size of sea’s whale
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| Pictures couldn’t be bigger, but shit I got dreams still
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| Better act like you got a clue, I’m fuckin' with Dreamville
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| Just because they got Lute (cha-ching), (haha) naw, salute
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| I’m playin', it’s not true, you know I mean well
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| As I watch the team build, the family tree swells, well
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| The dream team goin' crazy on beats we don’t think it’s sellin'
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| And seems to sell, cursed with a gift, profanity, jingle bells
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| Are actually Annabelle, challenge me and you fail
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| Whole faculty gettin' killed, catch me, get sent to jail
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| Without writtin' me bill, better shackle me well
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| 'Cause if them shackles do crack then Cody Mac gone be hell
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| Gone be ballin' like Shaq, for real, your woman back in the field
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| She gone want the sack like I pass in the NFL
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| Point the finger like Uncle Sam and get taxed for real
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| So, don’t be scared, just relax and chill
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| (Relax and chill, motherfucker chill) |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Proof , by - Cozz. Song from the album Effected, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп