Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song We In Here, artist - Future. Date of issue: 04.03.2012
Song language: English
We In Here |
| We got money in our pocket, and whatever you’re sipping on |
| Red-bottom limping around this bitch, what the fuck you tripping on? |
| Twenty goons, they in this bitch, you better check your tone |
| And they gon put you back in place if you do something wrong |
| We in this bitch, yeah we in this bitch |
| We got a section full of girls and they barely speak any English |
| Let’s toast it up to that life and I mean it |
| We in this bitch, we in this ho |
| I got the .40 on me now, who wants to Plaxico? |
| Shout to Gangsta Gibbs, he the next to blow |
| You should see my gangster grill, I light the shit from blow |
| Snowy car transforming instead of transformer |
| You ever cook the whole thing on a George Foreman? |
| What about a nine on the gas grill? |
| Four-fifty for the silk, pay my gas bill |
| So many horses in the 'rari, park it in the barn |
| Took the ice up out my cup and put it in my charm |
| And this bad bitch with me from another planet |
| Stay on the satellite phone — man, I can’t stand it |
| Hey baby girl, hang the phone up |
| No talking with your mouth full — you’s a grown-up |
| What the fuck? |
| Who the hell? |
| Flashback in this bitch, thought I seen a scale |
| You know how we handle shit, gangster gutter glamorous |
| Zone One Atlanta shit, over all the amateurs |
| I’m walking off in here, a boss so, dog, approach with caution though |
| Disrespect is tolerated, that’s some shit you ought to know |
| Niggas say they ball, yeah, but I’m balling harder though |
| Cold as the nose on a Appalachian Eskimo |
| It finna go down, ho, popping bottles, drown hoes |
| Paid niggas with us, ain’t no broke niggas around so |
| Excuse me — who is he? |
| I don’t do this usually |
| But I’m too fresh to fight — somebody go and get security |
| I’m buying this, buying that, getting that check and flyin jet |
| Boucheron, Constantine, Puff like, where you find that? |
| American at the nature, boy, a lot of nigga hate your boy |
| Pocket full of money, got more paper than a paperboy |
| Hoes jocking, on Twitter trending topic |
| Future, Jeezy, Cris, and Drama |
| Tip say, let’s go get it popping |
| I’m popping plenty bottles, like I got plenty bricks |
| Call me Mr. Marcus, I’m in this bitch |
| Super drink, super smoke and some super hoes |
| VIP looking like we won the fucking Superbowl |
| Thirsty chicks trying to give it, I don’t want it |
| You been in more laps than the Indy 500 |
| Conjure’s what we drinking, faded til the world end |
| Never see me planking, unless I’m on your girlfriend |
| Ludacris, I been a staple in this Southern game |
| Got the best lines, so I guess I’m slinging Southern caine |
| My money’s louder, you rappers need to hush more |
| My presidents rock, my accounts are Mount Rushmore |
| On the island and my phone is hitting dead spots |
| Altoid can of blue pills, that’s my X-box |
| You could hate, you could dis, you could make a wish |
| But eight albums, and Luda’s still in this bitch |