| Decisions I be makin' when I get impaired
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| Tell me where the gingerbread, I’m gettin' there
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| Money in my pocket barely fit in there
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| But I fell in love with how it’s sittin' there
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| Old bitches miss me, a hole in her soul
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| But I’m over it though, had to block me a number
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| (We're sorry)
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| This from the latest collection, my boy
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| You can copy the wave when I drop in the summer
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| Fiends got the city up under the wing like it’s fried rice
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| I done died twice, I got nine lives, that means seven to spare
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| Vision blurry, but the hindsight always 20/20, I see Heaven and Hell
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| Yeah, just to bust up a cell
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| Yeah, tell 'em come and give me fuckin' nonviolence when the nine flyin'
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| Hear her lullaby, make her sing like Adele
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| Heavy on me like a Pell
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| Singin' off-key, get 'em off me
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| We on all streets for the money, niggas hit up Wall Street
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| Had them boys ringin' the bell
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| Ain’t no Libra, but my scale ready if this rap shit ever fail
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| Get me hot
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| My borough taught me how to run a block
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| Confidence is quiet, I don’t talk a lot
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| I call my mama and I call the shots
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| I don’t call these bitches, they just talk a lot
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| Cop a couple toys and we can make a play
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| Now the driveway like a parking lot
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| Beware the dogs what the sign say
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| I did it my way, I did it my way
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| Decisions I be makin' when I get impaired
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| Tell me where the gingerbread, I’m gettin' there
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| Money in my pocket barely fit in there
|
| But I fell in love with how it’s sittin' there
|
| Old bitches miss me, a hole in her soul
|
| But I’m over it though, had to block me a number
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| Block block, uh, block, look
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| You got the gas, but it’s not like mine
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| She got that ass, but she not that fine
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| Don’t make a nigga laugh
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| I need the cash in the bag in advance
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| Before I grab any mic' in the stand
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| Don’t make a nigga mad
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| Spazz the fuck out, all bad, I’m all-Madden
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| I’m on a go route now, but I do all patterns
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| I’m with your ho right now, and she’s a tall glass
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| I’m a can full of whoop-yo-ass
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| A little .40 in the booking bag
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| I put a bullet in your lookin' ass
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| Aw, baby, what is you doin'?
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| Been lookin', askin' for something you can work your ass off for
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| My nigga, grab it, go after it
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| I’m p-p-passionate, d-d-damagin' my anatomy
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| Don’t get mad at me if I pass out while I’m ramblin'
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| I’m an animal, an anomaly
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| Mari-mari-marijuana, it’s the God in me, gotta be
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| A better way just to get away, takin' the backstreet roads
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| A couple days, maybe, give or take (Yeah)
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| Baby, I’m gon' get home
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| Uh, when I’m in the zone I’m in, I’m ignoring your phone call again
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| The phone, off the dome talk, your phone block block
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| You’re on, switch off
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| The long lost lil' nigga gettin' it how he live, hol' up
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| Decisions I be makin' when I get impaired
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| Tell me where the gingerbread, I’m gettin' there
|
| Money in my pocket barely fit in there
|
| But I fell in love with how it’s sittin' there
|
| Old bitches miss me, a hole in her soul
|
| But I’m over it though, had to block me a number
|
| This from the latest collection, my boy
|
| You can copy the wave when I drop in the summer
|
| Fiends got the city up under the wing like it’s fried rice
|
| Like it’s fried rice
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| Boy, you can copy the wave when I drop in the summer
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| Fiends got the city up under the wing like it’s fried rice
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| Like it’s fried rice |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Fried Rice , by - Bas. Song from the album Spilled Milk 1, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп