Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Big Bank, artist - Cognito. Date of issue: 04.11.2002
Song language: English
Big Bank |
| We got big bank, big rank |
| Walkin through the club like my shit don’t stank |
| Remember back in the day we used to sport fox |
| Izod alligator shirt with the socks |
| Louie Vuitton, I used to rock it like farm |
| Gucci with the tag, not painted on |
| Now them days done gone, and shit done changed |
| I went from a bronco to a six range |
| Nawmakazel, now it’s Cartier frames |
| Light weight chains, princess cuts mang |
| Chedda like velvetta, I’m in the club |
| V.I.P, with a black heata |
| Thug drama, smokin on blue sticky |
| They see me ballin in this game |
| And they wanna hit me. |
| (Cog-nonsense) |
| Lets go, giocanna eyes low |
| Two-way E, tell 'em to meet us at Roscoes |
| Ball til I Fall, thats my motto |
| In LA, NY even in Flo |
| Sittin on 'tractin rims |
| Wit' a mexican, took X again |
| Want sex again |
| Jot it down, it was told to me |
| By that boy, A.K.A. |
| The P-O-E |
| Deep in ya brain, the nigga you can’t stand |
| Most get upset when I switch cris hands |
| Shoulda left band, it gets worser man |
| Ice so bright, you salute both hands. |
| (switzin') |
| To the dot 6 we ride, got two chicks that promise to say Ahh |
| We’ll pop a X and swallow between thighs |
| Yall get it right, while I chase the sky |
| Been here, been bubblin' like coke pots |
| Boy, I can’t stop |
| Bentley, Lex or a drop top |
| The fo' on, ?? |
| soft leather til pop |
| Lyrically man, niggas to the turf like cops. |
| (goddamn) |
| Little mama got class, absolutely, Gucci dime ass |
| Oooh, I wanna hit it from the back til ya cry |
| Cognito, you the best I won’t lieeee |
| V.I.P, you know me, mob related |
| Toast style like Kool & the gang, celebratin' |
| Guns stay cocked, why not? |
| It’s real life |
| Cause playin' in this game you lose your real life |
| Ain’t it a shame the way the ferrari vibrate the body |
| Collectin mo' chips than laser sex parties |
| Me, I, be with the P-O-E |
| Til I’m calm, restin the box with crossed arms |
| The beat double, look around where you say it cause |
| Its like trouble |
| Who’s watchin? |
| My man Ricky Ross |
| Six-six giocanna, twelve and don’t test the calico wrist |
| Can’t forget E-class, sniper-like |
| Even if peripheral view, you lose sight |
| With so much ice, we turn night into day |
| We too fly, in front of the Source awards |
| Red Eyeeeee |
| Walkin through the club, like my shit don’t stank |