Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song No More Fux, artist - Cypress Spring
Date of issue: 13.08.2019
Song language: English
No More Fux |
We riding high |
Can’t give no more fux |
I just ran out |
Drink up all the whiskey, we done drank the bar dry (Dry) |
Smoked all the weed up, can’t get no more high (High) |
Yeah, I’m super numb but I feel so alive (Alive) |
In the back of my truck looking up at the sky, ayy |
Somebody tell 'em get ready man |
I’m on a whole 'nother level |
Don’t kill my buzz, let me just vibe |
Ain’t going nowhere, I’m too wasted to drive |
Stop all that talking, you blowin' my hype |
Please don’t go wasting all of my supply |
I’m going crazy, look at stars |
Shoot for them things and land a high five |
We riding high |
Can’t give no more fux |
I just ran out |
I made a killing all up in the kitchen was slipping them chickens |
And I had to watch everyone of my homies get man |
For twenty a sentence |
I had to switch it up, pick up the mic |
Do something different, and change up my life |
Now I’m on charts and doing it right |
Living a crazy one hell of a life |
I can be anywhere, look where I landed |
I’m taking off, all these others are stranded |
We made a company, look how we branded |
Now we all pouring up glasses of brandy |
get it up out of the mud |
No wonder why everyone’s showing us love |
We ain’t the ones to sweep under the rug |
We come for the crown so pour this shit up |
Eight miles down that red clay road (Clay road) |
To a place where the cops don’t go (Don't go) |
Riding four-by-fours, drop it low (Drop it low) |
Round up all the girls that we know |
We riding high |
Can’t give no more fux |
I just ran out |
Eight mile down a dirt road |
I think I wound up in Heaven (Heaven) |
I’m taking too many shots, man |
I shoulda ended at seven (Seven) |
Party ended at 11 |
Drank too many, '57 Chevies (Yeah) |
I should’ve stopped with the Crown |
Now, damn, who’s driving my Chevy? |
(what?) |
I’m in the passenger seat (Seat) |
Fading in and out |
Music way too fucking loud |
Somebody turn it down (Down) |
I think I’m blacking out |
There ain’t no backing out (Nah) |
I’m already committed now |
So I’m packing a Black & Mild |
Eight miles down that red clay road (Clay road) |
To a place where the cops don’t go (Don't go) |
Riding four-by-fours, drop it low (Drop it low) |
Round up all the girls that we know |
We riding high |
Can’t give no more fux |
I just ran out |