Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Chaos, artist - Jake LamboDate of issue: 27.05.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Chaos |
| Uh, take my keys and start it |
| Start it |
| Hold up wait a minute, how you feel lil' bitch? |
| You already know I’m finna kill this shit |
| No Genre the Label, what the deal lil' bitch? |
| Playing with my money, I might kill that bitch |
| Imma kill that bitch, Imma euthanize |
| We all at the funeral with suits and ties |
| Imma get my check at the |
| I mean envelope, and yes she will elope |
| Let me get it Jaque |
| I got the lil' niggas in the back |
| Put your back on my and my bad bitch |
| Firex on a tap |
| Man it probably will emit |
| I get money ho |
| Getting honey ho |
| You know who run it ho |
| Dick all in your stomach ho |
| You know you want it ho |
| Dick all in her stomach like hollow tip |
| After she give me that pussy then I gotta dip |
| You know these hoes is hoes is hoes we got a lot of them |
| Ho on of this shit you see these fly all on my collar bitch |
| I’m just chilling with some bitches and they looking like some tits |
| Yes I’m from Atlanta the West side I represent |
| If I hop up on that I can make your ass a |
| Bitch stop pitching me ideas and go pitch yourself a tent |
| Tinted windows on my whip and see that shit like 5% |
| Damn, can’t see |
| Running through a check, I fucked up my hand and now a nigga can’t count em |
| up on now my rubber band, little nigga on mountain |
| Why the hell y’all actin hard I swear to god that these niggas ain’t bout it |
| They mad that my team winning and their’s isn’t so we got em all pouting |
| Imma tell you why they actin like that |
| These days everybody want an Oscar |
| And they not my sons, and if they are |
| I swear to god Imma put them in foster care |
| You on TV take you off the air |
| Imma show my ass like I ought to be here |
| You know I will like the autonomy clear |
| Won’t explain that line, need not to be clear |
| I’m feeling right now I could spar with a bat |
| Bare hands hands out I got nothing to share |
| Just lit up a blunt, blowing smoke in the air |
| Foggy windows because my friends are burning forest fires |
| You no like it? |
| We say Forrest run but I think Forrest tired |
| Blowing stinky like that motor oil when I burn my tires |
| Got my foot up on the gas gas gas, plus a lighter |
| Gas plus a lighter |
| Gas plus a lighter |
| I just bought a pack of condoms y’all a pack of vaginas |
| And she fast with her ass like her past get behind her |
| Imma bag her Imma drag her where my *bing* like the timer |
| Hold up, hold up, wait |
| If you hater then you a mistake |
| No Genre The Label, my life is great |
| Chilling with rebels man shout out to Jake |
| Shout out to me? |
| So it’s my turn |
| Fuck these niggas talking bout, hold up |
| You ain’t talking money, then shut up |
| Working from the night til the sun up |
| Higher than my life, bail whaddup |
| Higher like I got the job show up |
| Tell the boss to suck it, Imma blow up |
| Snitches get stitches, get sewn up |
| Pass Joe a bottle, the doors go up |
| Eat two hoes like I’m an omnivore |
| Or some type of carnivore, Tyrannosaur |
| Sorta kinda like a connoisseur |
| With an Excalibur kind of sword |
| Bitch, all the competition we started |
| And we top shelf, y’all niggas Top Ramen |
| Look bitch, Bobby go apeshit |
| Came from the wild we was raised in a jungle gym |
| Bitch, y’all sneak like rumpelstiltskin and pajamas |
| Rolling presidential yeah we rolling down Obama |
| That’s just how we do it |
| In you bitch mouth like you ain’t |