Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Picture Perfect, artist - Chamillionaire.
Date of issue: 31.12.2004
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Picture Perfect |
Catch me today, with a cannon or a Kodak |
Cause by tomorrow, yesterday gon be a throwback |
(You see it’s real, they be like look at that |
Picture perfect nigga, you should take a photograph) |
Introducing the truest voice of the South, it’s who else but me fool |
Don’t let all that foolishness they feed you, on T.V. mislead you |
Don’t let all the magazines, and them papers out there deceive you |
The cups that be used to sip, but Caucasian kinda like my tee do You see that hand be glistening, you see the Sedans we flipping |
The hundreds of grands we getting, these units of scans we shipping |
You see that Caddy tipping, them thangs on that Caddy twisting |
That paint and that candy dripping, that drank and that can is missing |
That ain’t a Cola, though dry and you feeling sober |
Boys trying to switch it over, apply it up in a soda |
Home of the Houston hustlers, who grinding and hit the «a Who fire and hit the doja, you high when you sniff the odor |
Told ya you gotta have, a foreign or buy your slab |
Afford it then buy it that’s, important without it now |
You ain’t gotta take college class, to see that we bout our cash |
You not if you gotta ask, let’s take a pic by the slab hol’up |
You see my slab, you see my candy slab |
Picture perfect nigga, you should take a photograph |
You see my chick, you see my chick is bad |
Picture perfect nigga, you should take a photograph |
You see it’s real, they be like look at that |
Picture perfect nigga, you should take a photograph |
Photograph, ph-ph-ph-photograph-photograph |
Picture perfect nigga, you should take a photograph |
When I’m tipping they’ll probably watch me, the cops’ll be paparazzi |
And try to patrol my posse, we shining and glowing glossy |
The jealous will try to top me, we keep it too real to copy |
What I’m listening to ain’t a floppy, that disc gon be Screwed and Chop-pied |
All the ballers will ride to this, deposit deposit slips |
Buy the car and apply the fifth, raise the trunk an entire lift |
Use to go to that Kappa, but Kappa ain’t been as crunk |
So I’m popping up at Daytona, on chrome and I’m popping trunk |
Jamming that «Ridin'Dirty», while riding beside the laws |
And they staring over at me, trying to scare me like I’ma pause |
Tell 'em naw they know I’ma crawl, all day in the robber cause |
I’m trying to go wash the ride, till them tires have whiter walls |
You peeping him take a picture, that chrome and that paint official |
You smoking then take a swisha, there’s plenty just take 'em wit ya You chilling you ain’t a sipper, then I’ma be hanging wit ya Take a hold of the grain and grip a, handful and smile for the pictures nigga |
You see the bling up on my bracelet, and the shine on my chest |
Syrup in my styrofoam, it’s sweet with doja no cess |
You done put it down with the rest, time to roll with the best |
Cause when you ride with the original, you ain’t gotta guess |
I’m the connection that you need, when they say it’s a drought |
Cause it’s not really a drought, them other niggaz just out |
And I’m the plug you gotta have, when they say the river’s dry |
Cause it’s not really dry, they just ran out of supply |
I’m too fly for the clouds, too down for the green grass |
Better wear tinted lenses, if you look at my clean ass |
Catch me today, with a cannon or a Kodak |
Cause by tomorrow, yesterday gon be a throwback |
Candy still dripping, 4's is still tipping |
Wood grain grass, steering wheel I’m still gripping |
Repping for P.A.T., the West and the East |
And I’m repping for Pimp C, till he get back on the streets it never cease |