Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Momma Working, artist - Dave East. Date of issue: 01.10.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Momma Working |
| Everything in the bag nigga, everything man |
| Bag all this shit up |
| My moms coming home at like 11 B, we gotta get the fuck up out of here |
| We can’t be here when moms come in the crib, my nigga. |
| Word |
| Yo, this shit depressing, 3 to 6 for Smith and Wesson |
| On Ryker’s Island |
| Them hoes was telling get their best friends, they need protection |
| I seen the D’s, they played the roof out |
| It’s time to move out, the block hot, don’t bring the Coop out |
| I’m in the new shit, Balenciaga and a blue fit |
| We throwing parties, these bitches swimming got the pool lit |
| I bagged up eight balls over green, no need for pool sticks |
| I’m sick of Chinese, close up shop, let’s head to Ruth’s Chris |
| Connect Jamaican, I’m the reason for that last breath you taking |
| And fuck this paper, we throw it like we just graduated |
| Started in a Pathfinder, then I had to navigate it |
| We ain’t had much, my uncle said «Use your imagination» |
| Took it and ran with it, pieces out the pot let the fan hit it |
| Sit 'em on the plate and get the gram chipping |
| I ain’t feeling these niggas, it’s like my hand’s missing |
| My man’s switching but fuck it, I guess we ran different |
| Hand to hand pitching, Deegan or we Van Wyck’in |
| West side of FDR, never bag, I rarely borrow |
| Thoughts of running up in houses like the mask of Zoro |
| I had to go pick up some paper, I’ll be back tomorrow |
| Bagging up, knocking the purple tape |
| Outside all night, my moms was working late |
| I gotta go get it because it hurt to wait |
| I don’t talk about much, some shit it hurt to say |
| Bagging up, knocking the purple tape |
| Outside all night, my moms was working late |
| I gotta go get it because it hurt to wait |
| I don’t talk about much, some shit it hurt to say |
| I paid 50 for the smoke pack, 40 for that brown bitch |
| I’m bout to make the town flip, I’m always where they smoke at |
| Three dykes drinking in a school zone, a couple hammers |
| Young dirty ghetto children, we ain’t had no fuckin' manners |
| I love my grandma, that’s my mother twin |
| Couldn’t shit for days, eating that cheese from the government |
| Talk clear round here papi, no time for stuttering |
| Fiends like I just can not believe it’s not buttering |
| Stuttering, went back to basics |
| Xannies had me trapped in the matrix |
| When my mother told me you have to make it just for brother’s sake |
| If you sell crack, what you think he goin' sell |
| If you go to jail, where you think he goin', focus up |
| Still bagging burner tips, pull-up bar, work the dips |
| I had to work the bench before I got my starting spot |
| Straight out of Harlem like Suge Knight for that parking spot |
| Knocking Biggie, wish I could talk to Pac, get off the block |
| Bagging up, knocking the purple tape |
| Outside all night, my moms was working late |
| I gotta go get it because it hurt to wait |
| I don’t talk about much, some shit it hurt to say |
| Bagging up, knocking the purple tape |
| Outside all night, my moms was working late |
| I gotta go get it because it hurt to wait |
| I don’t talk about much, some shit it hurt to say |