Lyrics Top of The Year - Jim Jones, Pure, Trav

Top of The Year

Top of the fiscal, still poppin' my shit dough
Send a few words to enlight, pop in this whip hole
Bitch, now top dirty to the top of my dick and blow me
Least above thirty just to hop in this whip hole
Drop on the street remove, top on the web watch me
Droppin' like this whom
She want to dance, my watch is a disco
40 in my Benz, I’m just watchin' how the shit go
Choppers and pistols, cuttlers on pigs but they rock you like Pitbull
I’m uptown, think I’m captain I’m bricks yo
Drop it in pot like I dropped it in Crisco
Fried chicken wings, beef, fried rice
So if you forget them things, keep your heat by your side
And point 'em out, they ain’t on my level
Top floor, not a single flaw on my bezel
I’m fuckin' with your brain
I’m fuckin' with your brain
If you should brain or drugs
Fuck with me nigga be your brain on slugs
These niggas hate it, leave the watch at
Pull up in the club then we pop at 'em
Don’t know shit about a Mac Book
But I could dance on that shit with a flat foot
Fuck these niggas talkin' like they slingin' things
Different airport, six-seated planes
And KOB’s toss select the best picture
Connect you back when I links up 24's on that different city
Misfit, bisquit, nigga I’m high as hell
Got the gun tucked in widest shell
Real talk, them fire shells, flip on clientele
Niggas get clapped then cry and tell
The fat bread, they hall and we in vigor
Who will kick doors like the cops made weagan?
You’d better duck on these bleachers
It’s not something that you used to
I’m riding in that six doo
These 80's shot a knock on my grind
Rock star in Disney, like Korn Rose I’m crispy
The roof gone, miss-missin', no sleep, I’m persistent
Got 60 racks on my clothes, 60 racks on my shows
Fancies and them slows, they ain’t hustle girls, 6−0's
I got niggas on my dick like bitches
And I get it on and strip like niggas
But I’m a bad bitch and you niggas like bitches
I make it snow on July 3rd
No wings, I could show you how to fly a bird
No macamali with my J’s on
Float on Ferrari with my shades on
This Burgun back cost a half a brick
I’m getting head in the woop and I’m crashing it
Count a hundred thou while I’m masturbating
And pray to God
They say God works through me, they swept every sale
Paper right now or nigga Vigadale
Two niggas shot, I’m in the bullet beach
Wanna get P in sitcom beach
Look at my karma bitch, my outfit causal afflict
This is unfortunate shit, you want a coat full of dicks
Shots fired, rockabaya, like a langula bitch
I want the car to this chit, I do money my flip
Hey say I’m better when I talk my shit
I say I’m better when I’m ridin' in a gorgeous whip
Passenger a gorgeous bitch, 44th on my hip
Just keepin' me warm cause I’m quite sure the corner’s brigged
And in my 'viroment they need you stiff
I’ll tie you, they’ll crucify you for keezle sniff
I know the difference between friends and foes
So I know it’s a thin line between ven and lows
I’m back and forth the border, cross the water
Where the grass ain’t greener
Snitchers make you so my cash gave meaning
For the cash full blast past the reefer
Last of a dying bred blasting through your speakers
My whole click turnt up this really strip burnt up
Shooters on deck nigga it’s a bloody murder
No squares in my circle, no lanes on my team
Only victor with my game that’s why I’m nigga with they dream
Watch me light it up if you steady
Leave 'em up I could hit you
And you know a nigga won’t stop like my nigga named Muslitti
Young vamp and in pretty
Boots on, hard cloak
Solid warm, full of charm
And I keep shit like I hit the alarm
I know hustle and I know the plane
I felt the sun and I felt the rain
Flow like a butterfly, sting like a bee
You haven’t seen pretty 'til you niggas seen me