Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song F*cks With You, artist - Jim Jones. Date of issue: 28.04.2008
Song language: English
F*cks With You |
| Yeah, it’s ya boy… I'm back Byrd Gang |
| Another rap extravaganza classic for you niggas |
| WE TRYNA GET PAAAID, CAN I GET SOME BUCKS WITH CHUUUUUU? |
| GET BLAAAZED, CAN I HIT FROM STUFF WITH CHUUUUUU? |
| GET BRAAAINS, NIGGA I FUCKS WITH CHUUUUU… |
| CAUSE WE THEM NIGGAZ YOU LOVING! |
| WE FUCKS WITH EXPENSIVE HOEEEEEEES… THE BIRD SWANG |
| AS FAR AS EXPENSIVE CLOTHEEEEEES… IT'S BYRD GANG |
| NIGGA WE GETTING THIS DOOOOOOOOOOUGH… |
| CAUSE WE THEM NIGGAZ YOU LOVING! |
| If trap is the way out then y’all niggas stuck there (for' real) |
| Coffee shops the only way you see Starbucks here (for' real) |
| And I’m a different story (ha!), feeling out of line |
| In that deuce so I think I need a whole different story! |
| Can’t judge a book by it’s cover |
| Comes to yay you can’t judge a brick by it’s color (what!) |
| You only know if it’s butter when you put it in the raw |
| And that watch ain’t flooded if you still see the border |
| If he doesn’t hustle, somebody around him does |
| And if he ain’t homie, somebody around him cuz |
| (Cause?) Cause gangster ain’t easily portrayed (nah) |
| Death before dishonor niggas easily betrayed |
| Same niggas from the sandbox, I bought drops (drops) |
| One year or two times we can watch the ball drop (ball drop) |
| We by-coastal you niggas ain’t playing right (nah) |
| Drive-by and toast you, you niggas ain’t spraying right |
| Five seven with thirty five homie pitch a buck |
| Hit the club with the bitches, ma ain’t the only one to fuck |
| Cause my BG’s so prolific, you sluts can do whatever |
| I’m abusing my name buzzing from Brooklyn to Bermuda |
| Nigga’s caught him slipping again, he ain’t never shoot us |
| Bigga caught up pimping again and he ain’t neva Scooba |
| Thousand dollar bags of Buddha, I drop back on my scooter |
| My Ruger’ll do ya like they did Martin Luther Jr |
| A lil bigger rocking some shoes thinking that they cushy |
| Lil niggas got it confused thinking I’m a pussy |
| Watch how I scream with the team cause the clock is ticking |
| I gotta lean when I squeeze cause the Glock be kicking |
| I be blowing on the stank, blowing on the dank |
| My quarter across the border I ordered what it drink |
| Got ya daughter caught up in loops all up in the lane |
| All in the paint, we balling and caught up in the mix… OWWW |
| We do it to the death, a hundred hoopties I done wrecked (Capo!) |
| I got a bitchy attitude but stay super duper fresh (stay fly!) |
| My shooters do the rest (bang bang), put the product on the curb |
| If I’m not out of town I’m up in Harlem on the curb |
| Or handling B. I, in the office with my feet up |
| Stay running through the city, stay cautious if you see us |
| Been known for going hard, be flossing off the meter (balliiiiin!) |
| We gotta stay fly, Austin to the sneakers |
| I love the purple, stay coughing off the reefer (stay high) |
| Break the speed limit something sporty with a heater (speediiiiin!) |
| You fuckboys, you’ll never be like us (not at all) |
| Stunting at the light, in a 07' Spyder |
| Behind the G-wall, I know several lifers (Eastside!) |
| Eight forty eights they was heavy in the Vipers (balliiiiin!) |
| Six forty five, cherry and it’s piped up |
| The wrist forty five, chain heavy and it’s iced up |