| Yeah, she went to Vienna
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| First day alone, Indiana (Yeah)
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| Two guns, Jones Indiana, hey
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| Cook him broad day, Benihanas (Yeah)
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| On the bus, put me under, hey
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| I just want the boss to be honest (Yeah)
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| Told her, «Ayy, who your friend? |
| Put me on it,» ayy
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| My hoes in the crowd with me humbling, look
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| Call me Sosa Corleone
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| Runnin' down a sack what we on
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| Used to tell the plug, «Put me on»
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| OG would be like hurry home (Yeah)
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| We gon' fuck it up, then we gone
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| We don’t care who’s shit we on (Yeah)
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| Bitch know the sack super long
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| Bitch know the weed super strong (Yeah)
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| Niggas aware of what’s goin' on, yeah
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| Fuck all that shit, movin' on (Yeah)
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| White ice shinin', lookin' chrome
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| I can outsmoke Tommy Chong (Yeah)
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| I can outsmoke Snoop Dogg, yeah
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| Police chase me with two dogs, yeah
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| Paid K, silence too far, yeah
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| You niggas drag queens, RuPaul, yeah
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| Shoot three, pimp two hoes, yeah
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| Trap phone, I missed two calls, yeah
|
| Me and Slick talk through calls, yeah
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| Said niggas gotta feel, pause (Yeah)
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| Niggas better have steel jaws, yeah
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| You don’t know how to peel on, yeah
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| Country motherfucker, Lil Paul, yeah
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| You a man, Sonic Hedgehog, yeah
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| Pants still sag real low, yeah
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| You ain’t never been in real smoke, yeah
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| Left and right wrist kilos, yeah
|
| Man these niggas funny, Elmo, yeah
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| Friends cross you like a railroad
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| I ain’t talkin' arm, smokin' out the elbow, yeah
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| Diamonds keep slices of road, yeah
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| If you get money, go go, yeah
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| Chill out 'fore you uh, oh no
|
| The booty numero uno, yeah
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| Clap clap clap, kudos, yeah
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| Kind of pole is that, who knows? |
| Yeah
|
| In a flat with two stoves, yeah
|
| My chef ain’t runnin' two stoves, yeah
|
| Big number jumpin' through loopholes
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| I call Coozie and them hoes, yeah
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| Get a new bitch just how I get new clothes, yeah
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| Two watches, Pumbaa and Timon, yeah
|
| It’s gettin' all on 'em, ice cream cone, yeah
|
| Pull on my Nike, my VLONE
|
| Extra time on this Oyster
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| Slidin' slippery like some moisture
|
| These double V’s doin' torture
|
| Try to take my shit, I torch you
|
| Damn the neck got hoarser
|
| She just popped my shit like Wilson
|
| I just laid out like a poster
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| Gettin' blew with the explosive
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| You niggas salty just like Lawry’s
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| If diamonds is people, this is a party
|
| It don’t get broke up by the tsunami
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| It ain’t nothin' like new money
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| I been been been smokin' loud
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| 'Fore they started makin' blue money, yeah
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| Kay Kay want a white bunny, yeah
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| Black man gettin' white money
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| Your ho fuck around like money
|
| Can’t fit these blue hundreds, white hundreds
|
| Them twenties don’t feel the same color
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| My son told me that I can’t color
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| I don’t know fam, we ain’t brothers
|
| 'Member Bam Bam gettin' commas, ayy
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| It’s so fuckin' fake, you can’t cuddle
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| If you in our way in the club, ayy
|
| Y’all know you can’t come, nah
|
| Told them to make another charm
|
| Don’t know what it is 'til he done, yeah
|
| Borderline, fuck it, A1
|
| A fuck nigga, say you ain’t one, yeah |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Jones Indiana, artist - Chief Keef. Album song Back From The Dead 3, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп