Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pity in the Summer, artist - Jim Jones. Date of issue: 29.05.2019
Song language: English
Pity in the Summer |
| New York’s pretty pity in the summer |
| Rotten Apple, baby |
| And it ain’t no pity in the rain |
| (Heatmakerz, crack music) |
| On my sundresses and cocaine |
| Flyin' into one coast and the other |
| Might score out here |
| Now that I really wish I could stay |
| Ya heard me? |
| Uh, uh |
| With all my efforts is so effortless (Like) |
| I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks |
| Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it) |
| Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it |
| A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip |
| I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch |
| I buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone) |
| Set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly) |
| 'Specially in the summer with a sundress |
| A forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked) |
| Pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom) |
| Think about yes but I’ma ten when the sun set |
| Uh, shit’ll make your soul move |
| Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food |
| Turn a hot boy into a cold dude |
| Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that’s my old moves |
| Uh, what’s up, what’s up? |
| Real niggas in the buildin', what’s up, what’s up? |
| We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up |
| Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh |
| New York’s pretty pity in the summer |
| And it ain’t no pity in the rain |
| Flyin' into one coast and the other |
| Now that I really wish I could stay |
| I ain’t get a deal, you still wanna cool me off |
| Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off |
| The coupe, it cost, the roof is off |
| See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft |
| Why you mad? |
| You knew we flossed |
| Drip hard, stupid sauce |
| Neiman Marcus, Louis Force |
| Fuck you, truly yours |
| I knew D-Firm, the real on it |
| Henny up for Kenny Hutch |
| Yeah, that’s on my moms, bitch |
| Don’t make the don of dons turn into Don Trip |
| King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch |
| Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour |
| Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars |
| Gettin' money, it don’t matter what the bottom score is |
| Gettin' money, you can say shit like «Swallow, whore» |
| Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half |
| Flip a pack, took some L’s, every time I get it back |
| Uh, what’s up, what’s up? |
| Real niggas in the buildin', what’s up, what’s up? |
| We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up |
| Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh |
| Camera saw what your crew made |
| Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake |
| I’ll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw |
| Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, «I've been a fan of yours» |
| Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly |
| 'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside |
| Got half the block combin' for a half a block |
| I’m in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans |
| This junkie know I’m affiliated |
| Had his Oxy 80 on the table that’s missin', I feel he ate it |
| They see me spittin' and they feel he made it |
| So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? |
| I’m Philly hated |
| The Cream still a favorite |
| My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated |
| If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated |
| That’s how I go, nothin' to play with |
| New York, nigga |
| Uh, what’s up, what’s up? |
| Real niggas in the buildin', what’s up, what’s up? |
| We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up |
| Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh |
| New York’s pretty pity in the summer |
| And it ain’t no pity in the rain |
| Flyin' into one coast and the other |
| Now that I really wish I could stay |