| I bathed in the water of the wrath
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| I like to count the money
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| Bitch I like to do the math
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| You’re sneaky like a left jab
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| Over hand right
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| I’m Friday night fights in the Memphis bright lights
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| I got a suit passion
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| I like to dress in the high fashion
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| Broke hos with good jokes keep me laughin'
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| I talk shit behind the tint of my Benz
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| As my driver goes 90 over da Bay Bridge
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| It’s like smokin' weed all up in heaven
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| My God is a 7
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| And yo I’m a 3 11
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| That’s 14
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| I sport Jordan’s when I wear jeans
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| I’m in the hills of Tahoe throwing on my high beams
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| I like to wear rings
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| A couple pretty things
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| I sport leather on a bitch
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| If the city rains
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| We do drugs on a polar bear rug
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| If your man is a pimp
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| Don’t expect no love
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| It’s all upgrade
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| My new shades block the sun rays
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| Tupac on every Sunday
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| It’s all upgrade
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| My new shades block the sun rays
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| Tupac on every Sunday
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| I unwrap the plastic off the swisher
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| Grab your telephone bitch
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| You can take a picture
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| Pour it like it’s liquor
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| But move a little quicka
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| We live by the gun
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| So we die by the trigger
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| That’s word of life
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| Man have you ever seen a fiend’s pipe?
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| It’s dark as 12 a.m.
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| Even in the sun light
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| I lose my train of thought until you say the cost
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| I gotta bookie that love when I take a loss
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| I gotta prohibition mind state
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| About the crime rate
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| No love bitch on a blind date
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| You get a repo reaction from the people
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| Down here we bump C-Bo
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| We sport Filas
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| And Adidas
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| And Perry Ellis
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| Them bitches maybe fine but them hos be getting jealous
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| It’s high fashion
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| Car crashin
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| Suit matchin
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| Talkin shit on the freeway laughin
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| I gotta sweet tooth
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| I like candy paint
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| I talk shit to a bitch
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| Tell the ho «think»?
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| I gotta sweet tooth
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| I like candy paint
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| I talk shit to a bitch
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| Tell the ho «think»?
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| Get the New Testament
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| You get the tour and the estimate
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| Rhyme crime up in your residence
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| The camera lens is not a friend
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| It just offends
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| So I talk alotta shit behind the tint of my Benz
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| On I-80 880 980 580
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| 280 Aw Baby
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| All aboard like a train
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| My young homie said he’s like an old man
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| Cause he’s gotta push cane
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| Like a dime
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| To design
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| It never rhyme
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| My soul it never dies just like the Holy Qur’an
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| And on the scale
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| It’s like bail
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| And killer whales
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| Get at me early baby
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| Something like a clearance sale
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| I open up
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| I let you know
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| About the cost
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| I eat a pork chop with a deep money thought
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| I open up
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| I let you know
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| About the cost
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| I eat a pork chop with a deep money thought
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| Like a dead poet
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| And you know
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| Cause you show it
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| I’m driving down to San Jose and ya I like to floor it?
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| Like a dead poet
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| And you know
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| Cause you show it
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| I’m driving down to San Jose and? |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song SF Bay , by - Andre Nickatina. Song from the album Ugly Money 2 - Love It and Count It, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп