| Once again
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| Show it, show it, show it, show it
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| You a wimp, I’m up in the bed blowin' hemp
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| My shit a hundred percent
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| I’m a boss, I’m not a underling
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| Got a hundred links sitting in the infantry (Let 'em in)
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| My niggas gon' ride until the engines seize
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| Victory is seized, bitches striptease
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| I might drop 50 on a pinky ring
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| Pull up like, «Where the hoes?» |
| and take out a-holes
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| Don’t you ever compare me to those sambos
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| Cut the top off the rose, call it Amber Rose
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| I got so many hoes, I’m like the lead singer in Cameo
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| But I don’t taste like candy though
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| Tanned pea coat, tap dance on Miami coke
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| Cherry nine elevens, got a lotta weapons
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| My lady thighs make her look hind-legged
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| Exotic pet, she like a wild leopard
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| Eff it, I might let off a couple hollow heads for leverage
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| This is effortless, you bein' extra
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| Niggas say, «Wavy», that’s an S curl
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| The pump’ll make your chest curl, finesse your girl, you leave the flesh world
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| Sends you up, boy
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| Ocean’s Eleven type, if we see it, we want it, then we take it
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| Blame the appetite for sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
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| Ocean’s Eleven type, if we see it, we want it, then we take it
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| Blame the appetite for sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
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| Sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
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| Sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
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| Bubble coast to bubble coast
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| When we was broke we sold soap
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| Y’all slowpokes long dicked the pussy, give it slow strokes
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| Flow sound like shit I ghostwrote
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| Ain’t no hope in dope, that shit for dodos
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| Plus I take too many photos dipped in rose gold
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| The Benz is Merlot, the vocal booth’s an inferno
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| Took the burst from Alberto
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| And not a German pearl like serval
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| I’m layin' up, twistin', nervous, somethin' fertile
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| Let you tell it, the whips jewels runnin'
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| I threw the million at my lieutenant, the cop (Get it)
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| I might set it, bled the way you felt lightheaded
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| You had to wear light satin
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| Base leather up in white seven, it’s like heaven
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| I bang with the knife you slice bread with
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| Snatch the bread and split, you get your head hit
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| If you had street etiquette, I better break
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| Niggas ain’t better than me, they never been
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| Ocean’s Eleven type, if we see it, we want it, then we take it
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| Blame the appetite for sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
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| Ocean’s Eleven type, if we see it, we want it, then we take it
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| Blame the appetite for sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
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| Hoodrat fun like Young Latarian
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| Glide my stank ass 'cross your stage like Omarion
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| It’s the big leagues, buddy boy, please carry on
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| fuck big titties and spilled dairy on 'em
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| James Bond villains with retractable ceilin’s
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| Sharks in the tank wanna bank off the brilliance
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| Place the best bid on the best this side of the Mississip'
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| Stay fly like we’re fishes
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| Make a dollar do tricks like Richie Rich
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| I don’t sub tweet, I @ you like I’m gettin' sick
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| Return of the Mack, part 2, movin' at Mach 6
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| Fastest route to thug mansion where 'Pac sits
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| My pocket is nonsense, my new shit is doofus
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| Thirsty biters wanna bite but can only sip like they toothless, useless
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| It’s like walkin' through quicksand
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| Streets that take you under, keep your beats like Nixon
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| I’m livin' for demeanour, every sentence and sentence
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| Verbal game is off the spinach, one take and I’m finished
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| Livin' in my own world like the globe don’t twirl
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| Roll blunts as a dumbbell, sensi curls
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| Smoke so much from stress that my brain don’t rest
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| So I write all night to get it off of my chest
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| Therapeutic with the music, weren’t for that, might lose it
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| Real recognize real and you look translucent
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| Rappers too emotional, be all up in they feelings
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| Went to give you somethin' then I’ll tell you how to go get it
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| Wait, roll up at the back, that’s a daily routine
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| Used to sip lean but now we see, actin' our dream
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| That’s the way the cookie crumbles, say you gotta lay up humble
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| Or a bullet make you tumble, gotta watch the ones around you
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| Ocean’s Eleven type, if we see it, we want it, then we take it
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| Blame the appetite for sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
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| Ocean’s Eleven type, if we see it, we want it, then we take it
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| Blame the appetite for sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
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| Sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
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| Sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Appetite , by - Dabrye. Song from the album Three/Three Instrumentals, in the genre Электроника