Lyrics Driving Gloves - Gangrene, Action Bronson

Driving Gloves

Leather driving glove rap
Straight up
Totes, toke that
Fuck sales, on the road to getting rich off of touring
And that’s one thing for sure, like a shit in the morning
Shit, never a cold toilet (never)
I need a bitch with a pussy like a little league glove
I’m the epitome of, all fly shit jacket to the shoe sole
Two shooters, Flanagan, Caruso (Irish)
Fly girl stuffed the drug in her caboose-o
'I see Bronson in the chartreuse coupe mo'
My eyes sparkle like a diva’s mirror
Make dykes reconsider how they fishing in the river
Leave your sister, sit n shiver
Bagels catered, lox, no socks, blue drop
Spanish bitches on the boardwalk, tube top
Old school shit, nuttin' in a tube sock
Safe to say you ain’t much without your crew, hop
My time is now like a new watch, it’s me
Lumberjack rumble in the jungle
Live from the bungalow where I package a rap bundle
Straight funnel, sugar cakes, I’mma bumble
Bee that’ll sting you and flee without a rumble
Hand sanitary, shooters on the team, Danny Ferry
Fettuccine bars, pot belly
Double-G Bronsonelli on the radio and the telly
I chop like the Habibi at the deli
Slice precision, your wife’s a pigeon
I’m a chicken-hawk, hungry for a victim
Wires trip 'em, blow the woofers out the system
Non-exist 'em, take away the shine and eclipse 'em
I’m ‘bout to do a song with Bono
Pockets Trump like I just struck the lottery, lotto
Just me and you, mano y mano
Joints buckle, knees wobble
Pussy, you sweet like Peach cobble
Uh, look, hey
I’m as far as the stars have told
I’m trying to clock a few mill before a nigga gets old
Heart is cold, froze from the ice and a whole arctic pole
Bang my old art out of a Bose, I suppose
Doing speeds like I’m in a Maserati
But I’m really in a Mazda getting high with a hottie
Probably too high to drive, Fear n Loathing in the body
All I see is lights flashing like I’m at a Vegas party
Benicio, circle around my eyes
Feel like I ain’t slept, for about twenty nights
You look like you just fell down forty flights
I keep a shorty right cause Oh ain’t nothing nice!
I got a bitch to put the heel to the pedals metal
With shit hotter than the devil’s kettle
Never settle, get the gloves for the handle
Shit, I put the fire to 'em, watch 'em melt like a candle
It’s on!