| This sticker is dangerous, and inconvenient
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| But I do love Fig Newton’s
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| Completely irrelevant to the song
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| Tick tick!
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| Tick tick!
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| This sound like Nike commercials, from 1990's or something
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| I put the Footscapes in motion, I keep it movin' and jumpin'
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| I got some white folks take care of me like to call Mr. Drummond
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| Cause that shit funny to me, said that shit funny, uh
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| I got some niggas in jail, I send them bread for their snackies
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| We send em pics from the shows, they write me back like «What's crackin'?»
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| I take a vaca at Ma, she make the fish with the pasta
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| I used to run on the couch, that flow is made out of lava
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| I made the guess out of Legos, you fuck around and get smoked
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| I was Double O, Double O seven, no joke
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| Pops told me go out, boy, go and get you some hoes
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| I’m in the hallway of this building tryna take off her clothes
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| Like hurry up, before security come fuck us up
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| For me, like seven minutes later, now I’m sprintin'
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| Don’t you run from me
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| Like hurry up, before security come fuck us up
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| For me, like seven minutes later, now I’m sprintin'
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| Don’t you run from me
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| Oh, you mad? |
| (Nigga?)
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| Why you mad? |
| (Tick tick!)
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| Oh, you mad? |
| (What?)
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| Why you mad?
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| Said you salty than a bitch?
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| Tell em why you mad at me
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| Nigga don’t lose no sleep
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| Lately I been mad happy
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| I hold my head when I’m walking, I keep my hands in my pocket
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| These niggas come for my money, I gotta try and dissolve it
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| Ain’t no blade finna kill me, I better land in the coffin
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| I better wake up tomorrow, or we toast next to my coffee
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| I pull the Tracfone out my pocket, tryna see what time it’s poppin'
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| with my niggas, I don’t know you, then I’m
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| Awko taco, Rocko’s modern life
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| No money at Mickey D’s, my niggas like, «You got em, right?»
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| Snorlax get killed, I’m like, «Second time? |
| You caught him, right?»
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| I ain’t even save the game, I’m going back with an awesome night
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| Quick with it, like Harlem Nights, turning corners, just dodging lights
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| New, rooftops with
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| Heard some niggas mad, I got some eyes upon my shit
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| You spend as much time looking me up as I did to make my shit
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| Boy, you salty, fish and chips
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| Had to hit em with the dip
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| I stay way from the drama
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| At a distance, Jerry Springer, bitch! |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Salty, artist - Michael Christmas. Album song The Best of A3c, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп