Lyrics Fetti - Curren$y, Freddie Gibbs

Fetti

Like, lumber jack vest and some Bape sweats
'89 Vette still rock the tape deck
Suckas ain’t livin' they just wasting breath
Summers pedal to the metal chasing debt
Off track placing bets collecting checks
Draggin' that motherfuckin' money net
On to the next score and we ain’t finish counting yet
Fuck it, store it in the floor conceal it in the ceiling
Park them cars behind my girl house I tell her she ain’t see shit
Nigga, we movin' like new apartment units
I’m just doin' my thing and hoes drawn to it
Bomb fluent in that money talk
Glass slippers before she can walk
Silver spoons fill her food for thought
Cinderella’s prissy sisters woulda pissed their pants to kiss her
Break it off on sight she been gone all night, but she came back right
Tip toeing in the room, tryna not to wake me
Slipped 10 grand beneath my pillow and whispered I love you, baby
Shit crazy but it make perfect sense
Payin me to play her but I shan’t say I’mma pimp
Just a prolific playa with a gift
It’s in my nature to put that pressure on simps
Come off that paper, you don’t know what to do with that shit
I can show ya I can grow ya into something much colder
We the highed-up title holders, behold us
Behold us
These hoes know us
It’s like the game chose us
(That Nicky Tarantino flow)
(You know what I’m sayin'?)
Yeah, dirty needle to the mainline
You play kissy face with yo bitches nigga I tame mine
Strap her down with two bricks and straight put that bitch on that train ride
If she ain’t about that cheddar I give these heffers no hang time
Like Billy Hoyle, tryna re-up on them pills and blow
Cleaner than Sidney Deane, that white gon jump this shit at
Like I ain’t come thru on the Lexus GSs and Benz on twenty inch rims before
I’m sellin them nothing but killa I feel like P. Miller in Cartier lenses ho
You surely gon' die, have you lived before?
Blew dope smoke on suede roofs
Through Rolex on wood wheel
Two hoes next that group deal
Nigga cruise through to a cool mill
Staying in the streets not indicted
C to the E-O my shit drop when I feel like it
Just call me Freddie Gordy on them 40s
I chamber block that ch-ch-ch-chopper thank the lordy
Gotta strip these niggas bare cause Bare Escentuals, couldn’t afford it
Fuck an album title, call my shit the coldest shit recorded
Shoot it smoke it or snort it
Rollin dragon now everybody chasing
This Gary in the 1980s bitch everybody basing
Dinner time and shorty can’t eat no books, he flippin' yay now
They gave him 100 years cause he Nino Brown of the playground
I swear to God my momma always told me it’d be days
Like smokin' dope and pourin Henny on my nigga grave site
And wonderin' who gonna raise my child if I get sprayed
Light your boss up like your poppy and get paid
Yung Freddie Kane, nigga
Ya, fo' sho', man, Freddie Soprano
Spitta and Gibbs—that pistol to your ribs
That box Chevy, them 373 gears
Chokes out the concrete, shit spinnin' around me
Hit that weed, deliver a profound speech
Spoke with profound speech, speaking prolifically
Smoking on blueberry like Halle had an epiphany
'Bout to boomerang her like Eddie, I Billy Bob if she let me
Right on my living room floor
'Cause these monster balls are so heavy
Under the living room floor there lies trunk full of gold
If shit should ever go low then we will never go broke
Liquify the assets, audio dopeboy magic
Keep the Bentley console full of weed ashes
G Classes, glass feet leather under my ass cheeks
Talkin 'bout muscle cars, got a driveway full of athletes
Rappin' like half the time I got twenty bands for the half-book
Keep it 100 solid, they straight, shook they half-crooks, nigga
Yeah, yeah
Sho', fo' sho'
Fetti (Yeah)
That fettuccini, wha’s up?