Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Tuck Ya Ice, artist - Trick Daddy. Date of issue: 18.12.2006
Song language: English
Tuck Ya Ice |
| Tuck, tuck that |
| Tuck, tuck that |
| Tuck, tuck that |
| Tuck, tuck that |
| Tuck, tuck that, ice in |
| You ain’t, you ain’t, iced out |
| Tuck, tuck that ice in |
| I shine like a lighthouse |
| Tuck, tuck that ice in |
| You ain’t, you ain’t iced |
| Lights on, lights off |
| I shine like a lighthouse |
| Tuck, tuck that, ice in |
| You ain’t, you ain’t, iced out |
| Tuck, tuck that ice in |
| I shine like a lighthouse |
| Tuck, tuck that ice in |
| You ain’t, you ain’t iced |
| Lights on, lights off |
| I shine like a lighthouse |
| My shit is platinum |
| These assholes wearin' white gold |
| See I’m to smart for this cause |
| All my shit paid for |
| And why should I rent a house |
| When I can huy it and write it off |
| Make it my Florida home for the summer |
| Round winter time just rent it out |
| See I ain’t none of them |
| Who ride around on rented rims |
| Change on the weekend |
| And floss in him mama’s Benz |
| See when I hit the scene |
| I be so fresh so clean |
| White fitted, white tee |
| Ain’t nan nigga like me |
| What kind of shit you on |
| Wearin' fuckin' rhinestones |
| Them cubic zirconia son |
| Them ain’t fuckin' diamonds |
| So you gonna fuck around |
| And get gangrene at the arm |
| Who’d rob and kill one |
| Over some mother-fuckin' slum |
| Your chain is crazy |
| That shit for gazey |
| And it ain’t real |
| Unless its copper or stainless steel |
| So whoever made it… |
| You shouldn’t have paid it |
| Twenty grand for a watch |
| Thats fuckin' gold plated! |
| 16 out the house |
| 17 gold mouth |
| 18 on the block |
| Nigga got them thangs out |
| Birdman stunna, nigga we don’t sit in jail |
| Real nigga’s do real thangs |
| You know we make bail |
| Trick hit me on the cell |
| Know I gotta make a sale |
| Found myself in Dane County |
| Nigga’s movin' pounds of bail |
| So fresh, so bright with the ice |
| Nigga you could loose your life playing with the bright lights! |
| Yea |
| Khaled got my back |
| I’m strapped nigga in Prive |
| Doin' it big, poppin' bottles, nigga the g-way |
| Black handles, black ice, we’ll get it right |
| For a cheap price nigga that cutter’ll get your mind right |
| M.O.B. |
| to a bitch |
| Made my hood rich |
| Quick cash, young money, it’s that uptown shit |
| Ballin’one them bitches |
| Shock callin' on them bitches |
| Two million on some ice and some cars on them bitches |
| They asked the kid the difference between mine and his |
| See my shit blindin' |
| His shit don’t shine |
| Cause that shit ain’t real |
| His gemstones, they fruity pebbles |
| Just like Flinstones |
| And he had his «Roley» on |
| But I ain’t even notice his arm |
| But his diamonds cloudy |
| And he ain’t shiny |
| And I heard his shit «Tick Tick Tickin'» |
| Oh man, this nigga* trippin! |
| See we poppin' bottles and smokin bugga |
| Actin' cocky |
| Big thangs with fat pockets |
| Wearing seventy-thousand dollar watches |
| My overseas friends |
| Are breakin' thangs in |
| Invest in a smaller hit town |
| Shakin', bakin’and breakin' it down |
| We gettin' top dollar |
| Cause we got that top powder |
| Hoes slob on our johnson |
| Cause johnson got that best powder |
| We call a grand a dollar |
| We gettin' money holla |
| Rollin' hard with five fives |
| Real fucking street ballers |
| I did five trucks since the first quarter |
| I’m on the right path at this rate |
| I’ll be sellin' slabs by the halfs |