Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ring Ring, artist - Future. Album song Mexican Lingo, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 10.10.2013
Record label: Eastside
Song language: English
Ring Ring |
C-note after c-note, put the remix on my kilo |
Thought I wouldn’t make it, now I’m winning -- Timothy Tebow |
Fourth quarter, I’m back; |
fourth quarter, in fact |
Fourth quarter, that sack; |
Fourth Ward in all black |
I said boss and I meant that; |
advance, you spent that |
Corvette so clean you’ll think Bruce Springsteen rid that |
Cars just like sneakers, just got me ten pair |
Dubai, I been there -- but fuck that, we in here |
Roll up and inhale, I live next to Denzel |
Alonzo, my condo cost three mil', this shit real |
IPhone and iPad, Air Max, and my gat |
Left hand got ten bands; |
back pocket, four stacks |
All I need is bad hoes, all these niggas gon' rat |
Half these niggas working now, they knocked it down, they’re going back |
All I need is Benzos, squatting on Lorenzos |
Stack my money tenfold, make this my new temple |
Fuck em, fuck em, I’m screaming fuck em |
Fuck em, fuck em, I’m screaming fuck em |
Fuck all you haters |
Watch me fuck all these bitches |
I got eight different Rollies |
And they all mint condition |
I’m screaming fuck em, fuck em, I’m screaming fuck em |
Fuck em, fuck em, I’m screaming fuck em |
I got five different Benzes |
This is my deposition |
I’m screaming, «Fuck every witness» |
Cause bitch, I’m big business |
I’m screaming fuck em |
'Migo hit my boost, 'migo hit my boost |
What you know about walking in the Gucci store and they salute? |
Chain cost a coupe, coupe cost a crib |
Riding with the chopper, like it’s my friend |
This for real niggas only, I still bet with Kobe |
Got a sign in my garage that say, «Foreign only» |
Four zips pouring, on mixtapes I’m touring |
See my shit that fire shit, and yo' shit boring |
I’m chain smoking loud like it’s a Newport |
Dad wasn’t around -- my father figure was Too Short |
New Porsche, deuced up, two cups got juice in it |
Two forks, two pots, I could whip it both-handed |
My girl is bow-legged, just do it like Bo Jackson |
Every beat I’m toe-tagging, charm big as a Volkswagon |
Money got me sagging, it really doesn’t matter |
I run circles round these niggas' world like Saturn |
Black Foamposites, it’s like we on that mobbing shit |
Riding five deep and I’m as dirty as them congressmen |
Sixty-two, without no tint; |
missing roof on my new shit |
Ironic since my drive increased, my driver see the profit |
Yeah, work, fuck you niggas, pay me though |
Smoke that Mark McGwire strong, Oakland ain’t no basic smoke |
Shout-out to your lady, a.k.a. MMG favorite ho |
Tell that ass the way to go before I show her where to go |
No Canseco, and I’m switching lanes at one six oh |
A nigga trees fine -- a police siren! |
Woop woop -- nah, that’s just Diplo |
And you cute, shorty; |
let’s get low |
On the low, I’mma talk that jazz |
Jungle fever for the night |
Horny or white, that’s Anglo-Sax |