Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bricks, artist - Joey Fatts. Album song Chipper Jones EP Vol. 1, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 14.08.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Cutthroat
Song language: English
Bricks |
Pounds in the trash, Joey Fatts do the dishes |
W-w-w-w-Wavecap Music |
Lil Fressh |
Beeper King |
Bricks in the stove, posted with the pump |
Niggas got what you need, so just tell us what you want |
Choppers leave you niggas slumped, niggas down to ride |
All my niggas do or die, it’s gon' be a homicide |
Pounds in the trash, Joey Fatts do the dishes |
Bad bitch, no clothes, cooking work in the kitchen |
My brother’s ain’t home cause they on the block pitching |
Got them birds on the stove, for dinner we eating chickens |
Niggas trill crippin', purple drank' sipping |
Shoot you with a pistol, my nigga give you the business |
Like Tha Dogg Pound a nigga stay with bad bitches |
Call 'em over, they be straight to the head like Penicillin |
Got a bitch in the bay, she cook a nigga yay' |
Base girl bumping Lil B headed to L. A |
If a coppers in the way, then she load the choppers |
Helicopters lay you down and you won’t make it to the doctor’s |
She a bopper, a freak |
Hear my name all in these streets |
All these niggas talking 'bout me so I sleep with my pistol up in these sheets |
Squeeze will leave a pussy nigga dead |
Trap be stacking bread, staying low from the fed’s |
Fatts |
Matched on, hammer time |
Hammered down, shooting TEC’s |
Ric Flair, windmill, hammer jam, uh |
Percy Miller 'bout it, 'bout it |
Chopper in the camo pants, call that bitch the ambulance |
Skirrrt, You gon' need it |
Check the body count when them little homies start creeping |
Summer slam, dropping clips |
Chirp phone, chopping bricks |
Rose gold, O’s froze |
Watch the wrist, you pussy niggas getting sloppy |
Got war wounds on my body |
Plus six shells in my shotty' |
Catch him slipping and pop him, fuck nigga we’ll sit you down |
If them birds fly then we’ll flip your town |
Got a whole train that’ll hit the ground |
Run it, make that bitch cum, four-hundred |
Day and night and that cut it |
With that molly, white and that money, uh |
Bagging knots on that dresser |
Sell you work on my? |
, pussy’s folding under that pressure |