Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song I'm A Junkie , by - Fillmoe Coleman PresentsRelease date: 29.06.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
I'm A Junkie |
| Now I, played some hoes in my life |
| But I never played this ho before |
| ANd I swear, if it’s cool |
| Ho I only wanna be |
| Man I speak with percision |
| Money’s my religion |
| Freak how you livin |
| I fly like a pigeon |
| This is the mind of a rap cat |
| And get all the money and the hoes yo and never try to hatchback |
| I talk shit in the cadillac |
| It’s about two AM my freak is sippin on cognac |
| She love me I love her right back |
| But yo it’s a different kind of love |
| Man kill her with the kisses and the hugs |
| Sometime she might cry like a dove |
| She know I got hustle in my blood |
| She know I don’t spit no scams |
| I like candy yams |
| I never jepordize who I am |
| I don’t have to try to cross her |
| Man I’m her sponsor |
| The word play I display man it’ll haunt her |
| Man take these CD’s yo and bring the cash back |
| I’m a junkie for the money how you like that |
| And how you like that |
| I bet you like that |
| I spect you like that |
| I think you like that |
| I live life we think we didn’t care |
| And leave the scene with my pinky in the air |
| I left my mark with dents in my imprints |
| And chalked it up with Goldie my big friend |
| Discuss the thang like what’s the game |
| When all fails it’s all hell we trust the game |
| And I’m confident, I spit it like no other on the continent |
| And I ain’t lookin for your sympathy or compliments |
| You work regardless put it aside |
| You might feel a little pain that’s just your pride |
| Now baby wide open, breakin the rules |
| In the shoes of a prostitude bout to choose |
| I’m chosen all up in the rhyme like a metaphor |
| Promote the Queeze help me go ghetto gold |
| You’re lookin at the culture of the rap culture |
| You stare long enough you might see just move on my poster |
| I might have to ice grill ya |
| If you talk outta line and the god don’t feel ya |
| I put your mind in a octagon |
| And you’ll devote your whole world tryin to play with Kahn |
| You ride around in the flyest car |
| Your catered at the bar |
| I have you shining like a lucky star |
| And all you gotta do is take this and bring it back |
| Take this and bring it back |
| Take this and bring it back |
| Shit, and now I’m laughin at the money stacks |
| And all your friends and your buddy pack is lookin for this rap cat |
| Man it’s the gift boss |
| And get the hot sauce |
| And don’t ask what the clothes or the cars cost |
| I like to mad floss |
| Man get my hair did |
| And talk shit to a chick eatin spare ribs |
| She said she love me |
| I make her heart feeze |
| Alright baby, then move these CD’s |