Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song French Connection, artist - French Connection. Date of issue: 20.08.2012
Song language: English
French Connection |
| Pullin' up at tha club in a 67 'lac |
| Wit tha champagne color, drop top, blowin on a sack |
| We were rollin like some macs, peepin all foes |
| I got to Valet, my baby, cause she sittin on some all golds |
| Now Lucci call those, ladies wit fitness |
| So we can handle our business, and let em know, jus how we kick it |
| It’s time to let em know tha real crooks are on tha scene |
| Unkindly to these hoes unless tha finally got some cheese |
| Now bring on tha weed, let’s float on cloud 30−30 |
| I said a few lines, she grab my hand, I knew she heard me |
| I sat at tha bar afta rollin' up tha cake |
| Then they mixed that Grand Moyea wit that damn Kovasea |
| French Connection and some hay, we were blowin fool |
| I can’t keep drinkin like this, I gotta hop up in tha old school |
| Playin it so cool, and still smokin |
| Locin up wit this tight, bright stallion, I had spoken |
| Baby, come and get some |
| Mr. Pookie, Mr. Lucci wit tha big guns |
| Playaz havin bug fun, now tell me do you want some |
| I’m at tha bar laced out on French Connection |
| Bout it, Bout it, baby!!! |
| Now once again, this playa stepped in, wit tha first class dressin |
| Teachin lessons on impression, toward tha VIP section |
| Me and Pookie steady wreckin, headshots of French Connections |
| Green depressions, got me in a zone of balla flexin |
| Crooked down Dallas, Texas, stackin G’s while I’m plexin |
| Stoneycrook niggas, runnin everythang, dont even test them |
| Hopped up and I’m chopped up on tha dance floor, showin mo luv |
| Yella bone eyes locked up, when I’m propped up wit my soljaz |
| It’s so much, green cover for tha PrimeCo phone holder |
| See tha Don man’s and tha golds, bruh |
| Crooked pest games wit her shoulda |
| And I told her, meet me at tha bar bout 3 |
| Go gather up some of yo freaks, while I find Pookie |
| Jacuzzi’s and Dubbie’s, wit new Ki’s, wha it’s gon be |
| Green trees and Don P, droppin tops through Dallas deep |
| Coolin out wit my G’s, niggas that you can’t tame |
| Hoes strikin down crooked P’s, hurricane wit a Kango |
| Chillin at tha bar, gettin tipsy off tha drank |
| French Connection got me feelin like a nigga wanna faint |
| Now I’m rollin up tha cake wit my eyes on tha crowd |
| Pookie and Lucci, blowin like we floatin on a cloud |
| Feelin' me now? |
| See, I’m tha chiffer of all chiffers |
| Figure it out, now take it slow and catch a breather |
| Ya trippin' me out, now throw that booty like its lethal |
| Show tha butt, hold it up, bounce it for tha people |
| Yes, I see you in tha back of tha club, takin photos |
| I’m finna blow hoe, look round, wassup wit tha dodo |
| I want some mo 'fo, I can’t get wrapped up in my own world |
| Stallion wit long pearls, sexy now its on gurl |
| You wit yo friends and I’m wit a couple 2 |
| Jus hold onto tha number, we’ll see you in a day or 2 |
| Pissy, tipsy wit my crew steady jiggin for fun |
| Now tell tha people to come and get some |