| Aye, yeah, boy!
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| Aye, yeah!
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| Aye, yeah, boy!
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| Aye, yeah!
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| How I’m goin' crazy, crazy? |
| Bitch, I get it
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| These bitches poppin' mollies like the hippies in the sixties
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| Bring your ass to East Atlanta, I don’t do deliveries
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| I’m chargin' like I’m Tony Montana, the homes ain’t killin' no children
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| Top of Savannah with blue New Balances
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| and bricks all under the building
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| Homegirl said I’m the man gettin' money,
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| But I ain’t seen a nigga, I missed it
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| New Lambo and I’m sittin' real low, slidin' around without my ceiling
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| Used to be my hoe, you can have that hoe
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| My nigga, I ain’t got no feelings
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| ‘Fore I started rappin' Gucci Mane was sellin' dope
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| Her brother wanna meet me but I’m still sayin' «no»
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| Call my phone again, I’mma have to tell him «go»
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| Two-hundred squares, a hundred pairs, what’s your price? |
| Low?
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| Bring them things in — bring them things in
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| When you come in, make sure you have them dividends
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| Hope you got a whole bunch of hundreds so I can easily count it
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| Man, I’m goin' hard, summertime, dude forge a mountain
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| How you doin'? |
| I’m goin' stupid, goin' dumb, bitch
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| I’m a Zone 3, nigga, you know I’m on that slum shit
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| And my nigga from that Six, and he jugglin' all them bricks
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| And he fuckin' with your French, and they know the streets is back
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| Johnny Dame on my wrist, cost ‘bout a couple bricks
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| Got Vellanos on my whips, Forgiatos on my whips
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| Got the 40 on my hip, with ‘bout 50 in the clip
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| Hit the kitchen, hit the strip — grab some pounds and some zips
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| If the block sellin' here, hit your block, let it rip
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| Give me top in that Six, bitch, my watch very clear
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| And my pockets very fat, and I stay spendin' racks
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| Spend them stacks, get it back, twelve chickens in the back
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| ‘Migos meet me in the front, bitch, this ain’t what I want
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| Try to play me like a punk, my niggas’ll leave you slumped
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| ‘Migos meet me in the front, bitch, this ain’t what I want
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| Try to play me like a punk, my niggas’ll leave you slumped
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| Juugin' off them millions, on the table, hit the city
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| Man, we got cameras in the front, receivin', backin' in
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| When you come in, make sure you have them hundreds, then…
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| We count dividends, only conversatin' if you spend
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| Super-charged, straight A, charge it, see it on them rims
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| Hit you fuckin' head in, you been a real nigga when
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| If you wanna buy ten, come and buy thirty-six
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| Charge ‘em thiry-two nicks, that’s a five for the dry
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| Benz top circumcised and you know the body wide
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| Glock 9 on my thigh, hidden right between, I…
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| Young, fly street nigga, bitch, I’m from New Jack City
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| Have a temper around women, if you want it, come get it (fresh) |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bring Them Things, artist - Chief Keef. Album song Life Of A GLO Boy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп