| [Son I’m from the place where we floss regardless
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| Cars clothes, we ball the hardest]
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| Dog I’m from the home of palm trees and low rider trucks
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| Where we let the bass thump and don’t give a fuck
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| Oh that’s how you get down?
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| Nah this is how I get down
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| I keep it filthy as fuck and live the life of a dog
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| Catch me in the club with your wife when your favorite songs on
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| You poppin' the Cris? |
| and I’m popping your bitch
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| When you out buying fifths I’m polishing a four fifth
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| Add another scuff to my kicks, think I give a shit?
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| I wore the same pair of Tim’s since '96
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| Even my Nike Air Max is deflated
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| With holes in my socks and mildew rotten shoe laces
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| And I still bag more broads than ya’ll niggas
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| Even though I borrowed all the clothes in my promo pictures
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| I say Big Willy, you can’t stop the rain?
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| I wear dirty undershirts full of pasta stains
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| And shave maybe once every two weeks
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| I’d rather utilize the blade to put a scar on your cheek
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| I rock promotional shirts even if the group’s wack
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| So don’t be surprised if you see your logo on my back
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| I don’t need to floss for sex
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| In fact my averex got electrical tape holding the zipper in place
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| Iced out only, after I robbed you
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| And it’s bling bling when you see the snub knob through
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| [Son let me tell you why I dress so big
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| Ice on my neck is so damn big
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| House and my cars cost so damn much
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| And the rims on my truck just can’t be touched
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| All my bitches got bodies like them chicks on cable
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| I got about a hundred hoes up in my stable
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| I’m not just Johnny nigga call me famous
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| Any more Cris? |
| we drink til we piss
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| I don’t bop when I walk Cause I don’t walk
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| I’m in the Benz with the drop and I don’t talk
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| Chickenheads wanna holler til they throat get hoarse
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| Little kids I give them money when the lights take course
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| All my guns spit shells like they ate sunflowers
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| You could take a blood bath or stand and take a shower
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| To me it don’t matter, put holes in your bladder
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| Fill your body with led til you ten times fatter]
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| [Celph you know I live like a real life king
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| Got three kid named Bling, Bling, Bling]
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| It ain’t a thing I’m at the Grammy’s with a wife beater
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| Drinking rum and cokes straight out the two liter
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| [Trendsetters, you do you I do me
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| I even eat frosted flakes mixed with bubbly]
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| It could get ugly, I’m taking fat bitches to the buffet
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| With coupons, with my uncle’s suit on
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| [Big Scoob, I got a house full of hoes
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| A mouth full of flows, a pocket full of holes]
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| Ayo I got a lot of respect for all the real playeas
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| Whether flossing or not we still gettin' paper [still gettin' paper
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| Still getting' paper] |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Floss Filthy, artist - Big Scoob. Album song No More Mr. Nice Guy, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп