Lyrics Coolie in the Cut - Curren$y

Coolie in the Cut

Uh, I got my California green and my New York bitch
My new car clean, you should see that bit
Jet Life do they thing, every boss get rich
Bringing ounces, only personal’s get lit
Been doing this, ever since I touched my first scent
I was hella bent on touching that wealth, bitch
Now I’m toasting to my health, making them niggas sick
By myself, top shelf, where the best sit, uh
Gucci gloves on my fingers
Pointing to the man and I see him in the mirror
High ass, money making, wrist taking
Niggas hating, Chevy skating, fresh from the weed now
Ready for that wake n' bake
I be coolie in the cut, twisting up, high as fuck
Mind racing behind this paper, mane' I still ain’t had enough
Fool it’s a must, that I get mine before I lay dead in the dust
Rolling joints up by the ounce, try not to smoke it all at once
Cause I be
All I got in this world, is my balls and my word
A few pounds of the herb, four dimes and six birds
In that zammy I swerve, out in New Orleans I’m boss
My eastside niggas say word, getting it like the first and the third
Now when it come to my pockets, it’s a must I see profit
Mingo Barnes I’m the man, smoking grams, counting grands
Nice kicks, I’m the shit, stupid bitch get off of my dick
You niggas nosy like chicks, air hustling all in my mix
Catch me riding 'round with my tops down
Smoking on that kill, you know my weed loud
Mingle baby, real nigga, you can’t keep down
I’m too high, eyes low, you know I’m cheifed out