Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Clockin, artist - Berner. Album song Packs, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 22.12.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Bern One Entertainment
Song language: English
Clockin |
Yeah |
Clockin' paper |
You know what I’m talkin' 'bout |
Clockin' paper |
From Cali to New York City |
Clockin' paper |
Yeah, fuck you talk if you ain’t talkin' paper |
We be breakin' down the work on my mama table |
All day, high, drunk and clockin' paper |
Fuck you talkin' 'bout nigga if you ain’t talkin' paper |
All day, ridin' clean, smokin' purple |
All day, play with me and they gon' hurt you |
All day, there’s nothin' but paper on my mind |
All day, shawty do it for the Vine |
Ridin' clean, smokin' purple |
Play with me and they gon' hurt you |
Ain’t no squares in my circle |
Mixin' Xans with the dirty, smokin' purple |
Stripper bitches burnin' out bank accounts |
Yeah, we wrap raw cut with wet paper towel |
That’s grow talk, I bought a whole block |
And I ain’t talkin' 'bout blow, I got grow spots |
I pulled 23 mil out my old spot |
I came a long way from the stove top |
I still get busy, count money 'til I’m dizzy |
Load a full truck up, it’s a quick 650 |
Bullet-proof truck in a S5−50 |
Got lemonade pounds out in New York City |
I’ma flex with the pack, I get 5 grams for 'em |
Right across the street when I land in the mornin' |
Coke boy seats, not a damn stain on 'em |
Throwin' bitches in the crib, pour champagne on 'em |
Yeah, fuck you talk if you ain’t talkin' paper |
We be breakin' down the work on my mama table |
All day, high, drunk and clockin' paper |
Fuck you talkin' 'bout nigga if you ain’t talkin' paper |
All day, ridin' clean, smokin' purple |
All day, play with me and they gon' hurt you |
All day, there’s nothin' but paper on my mind |
All day, shawty do it for the Vine |
Ridin' clean, smokin' purple |
Play with me and they gon' hurt you |
Ain’t no squares in my circle |
Mixin' Xans with the dirty, smokin' purple |
Brown bag money, stuff it in the wall |
Dirty money, I’m a LAX tryna duck the dog |
I’m still dirty, fuck a rap check |
I was first class chillin' when the pack left |
I need a fresh pair of gloves and a address |
I got 6 cellphones, hope the pack flex |
I still get money, bitch, you’re weed man love me |
Yeah, I keep the big bills, re-cop with the 20s |
I’m a real street cat, in the drop with the bunny |
Xanax bars and the cup’s all muddy |
I hit the A-Town, we got rich in Atlanta |
I’m in the H-Town with French Montana |
Cook smoke in the air with the coke boys |
Young motherfucker, yeah, I’m a dope boy |
Yeah, fuck you talk if you ain’t talkin' paper |
We be breakin' down the work on my mama table |
All day, high, drunk and clockin' paper |
Fuck you talkin' 'bout nigga if you ain’t talkin' paper |
All day, ridin' clean, smokin' purple |
All day, play with me and they gon' hurt you |
All day, there’s nothin' but paper on my mind |
All day, shawty do it for the Vine |
You already know what I’m talkin' 'bout, man |
Brown bag money, pickin' up 200, 3, 4, 500 thousand at one time |
Ridin' round, cop keep behind me, I ain’t even trippin' though |
If he put his lights on, I’m dippin' yo |
It’s Big Bay Area business |
You know I went from coke money to hoe money |
Grow money to show money |
To Hemp2O money |
Yeah |