| Holla
|
| No sorrow haters wrapped in a Tahoe
|
| For all those who saw J smash the Apollo yikes
|
| All covered in ice like I was standing in Times Square
|
| On «The Day After Tomorrow"holla
|
| I’m in to bigger dough, sicker flow
|
| Rocky dial what make it possible to Rocky-bow hit your hoe
|
| I feel like Bigelow 'cause ever since I got the churp number
|
| All I been hearing was bleep like the Springer show
|
| I got Poppa Al money you got pocket-style money
|
| Doggie, these maurie’s try a thou’dunny
|
| Girl’s dropping wild funny
|
| Soon as I step in and want to grab on the gator like Crocodile Dundy
|
| See I’m the worst round, you’ll hit the dirt ground
|
| I surf towns in Jaguars that’s dirt brown
|
| I know it hurt clown, to see me laid in a suite
|
| Under sheets, stuffed with more feathers than a First Down
|
| Comfortable
|
| Yo I copped a couple K’s for the beef when it goes down
|
| I told niggaz that they couldn’t eat in they own town
|
| Fuck off the strip, for I bust off a clip
|
| My time is money I got to get the fuck off this brick
|
| Follow me around and we’ll see the life of a hustler
|
| Follow you around and we’ll see the life of a buster
|
| Beat down, smacked up, robbed every minute
|
| And my soldiers, they treat me like I’m God every minute
|
| Hot as a fuck, but don’t get acknowledged enough
|
| This is grade-A piff you got garbage to puff
|
| And when it come to my rocks get it polished and buffed
|
| Same thing with your girl I get polished and buffed
|
| A few bricks on the table, I’m smoking by the pound
|
| If I don’t blow I’m on the next thing smoking out of town
|
| I’m sitting on grenades, I’m sitting on some blades
|
| Yay, flip it suede fitted sitting on my braids
|
| Nigga I got gats to tuck and Cadillac the truck
|
| I deal with mathematics homeboy and you ain’t adding up Two plus two don’t equal five
|
| I eat the truth but feed you lies you bitch nigga
|
| And I ain’t ask to come through, man I’m barging out
|
| From now on you address me as?
|
| I’m the kid from 140 baby
|
| 40 making all the cake
|
| My dope like tsunami, I kill 'em off a water weight
|
| You play 50 get your story straight
|
| Niggaz up in 50 minus 2, that’s ya number due, the 48
|
| Well do the math, the nigga’s a problem
|
| You broke, ya dead broke when I kill 'em and rob 'em
|
| 40, niggaz think they can call shots.
|
| Y’all ain’t got no winds you lost hair like a bald spot
|
| You want the Tupac Shakur props?
|
| But it’s like a disease now 'cause all y’all got is smallpox
|
| And that’s off top at ya door with 4 knocks
|
| 40 catch vicks in they halls like coughdrops
|
| Porsche box, school you how to sell the coke-a
|
| 'Cause «Diplomat"without the «t"spells diploma
|
| Tryna, tell you dolja, the flame in ya ass
|
| The game in a smash, 40 keep his name in a stash
|
| You the type to go to jail, turn ya name to Shebazz
|
| I’m a menace, the O-Dog with the 'Caine on the ave |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Pit, artist - Dipset. Album song More Than Music, Vol. 1, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп