Lyrics NothinLikeUs - Curtis Williams

NothinLikeUs

Look, I said
Been banked up, got a check in my pocket
That’s how a nigga came in
And the shit so big, can’t fit in no wallet
That’s how a nigga came in
Booked so many shows that the money won’t fold
I just need me a straight shot of gin
Your bitch want to kick it, she like how I’m living
I promise that we was just friends
All these damn drugs, Imma do em
Ask about the money that I made, I ran through it
The way a young nigga talking, might sue him
Mama say chill, what the fuck I been doing
Shit chilling, just living
Looking at cars, motherfucker big spending
Taking all these young nigga women
Tell she been sniffing cause her nose still dripping
Off a few tabs so I’m tripping
Blunt after blunt to the face till I’m lifted
Screaming Two-9 till I’m finished
Nigga Two-9 till I’m, ahh
Say you smoking weed my nigga, ain’t hitting no weed like us
Say you getting money my nigga, ain’t touching no money like us
Say you like drugs my nigga, ain’t none of y’all high like us
You don’t flex with your niggas, ain’t real with your set, ain’t nothing like us
You don’t flex with your niggas, ain’t real with your set, ain’t nothing like us
Nothing like us, nothing like us
You don’t flex with your niggas, ain’t real with your set, ain’t nothing like us
Nothing like us, nothing like us
I don’t think a nigga want to be high like this
So addicted to the life, Imma die like this
Your bitch my bitch, it don’t even make sense
Your bitch stop worrying bout a bitch, make sense
I smoke in peace, they so antagonizing
They say they live life, but I know they lying
Ok, everything fine with me
Bitch look good, but she fine with me
Motherfucker swearing niggas that they ride for me
Motherfucker can’t pull up on side of me
We can’t even pull up at the motherfucking bank, overseas money
Nigga it ain’t nothing, that mama need money
Niggas talking money, but the shit’s so funny
Niggas talking money, but the shit’s so funny
If your bank don’t fold you can fuck every ho
But not like us, I can fuck her out the dust
Damn near got a grammy but I’m still gone bust
Damn near got a grammy but I’m still gone bust
Me and Curt still chilling and they still ain’t up
Nigga shut the bitch down, we gon turn the bitch up
Everybody want to rap, but they still not us
Everybody want to rap, but they still not us
I be killing everything I see and I ain’t even fucking start, boup boup
Rapping on the track, Curt and Key!
But my whip is push to start
All I see is red on the track, it’s everything, look like a target
Im running with your bitch boy, have her legs split like aparted
Everybody want me on the cover and I’m sonnin' all these rappers
I could swear I be their mother
Then I serve em like a butler
Hova, I’m a, I’m a hustler
Smoke it in the paper like a rasta
Swear they know my name from the UK to out in Russia
Pop a lot of bands that’s why my hands are marked with rubber
Smoking on some green, I caught control, I call it flubber
Boy, fuck do you think that this is
Word to my brother Collard, we the shit
No Kardashian, we popping off Cris
Check out the Rollie, no time for this shit
Fuck boy, Danny Seth’s who I fucking be
And I ain’t fucking her unless I’m seeing her ID
We ain’t even got to ask about the fucking team
Curt Williams, Danny Seth, and the Key!