| I’ma let you hear that other one after I do this
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| I’ma let you hear the one you know the 6's and all old shit all that we don’t
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| fuck around shit
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| I like this shit man
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| Coke and rock and choppin' off 'em, private goin' on shopping sprees
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| Glock in my back pocket, already cocked okay I’m clockin' cheese
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| Strap jump off the hinges in the trenches, all in alleyways
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| Had to say, each and every day we grabbin' paper
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| Live the hustle, probably die, gangster and etcetera
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| Sometime I can’t take no break, they keep callin' my cellular
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| This the game and we know this life we gon' be alright
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| Ain’t no sleep tonight, bitch we out here chasing paper
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| At the Paul Inn with the Tech 9, no bandana, no gloves on
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| Long kiss, goodnight my nigga, but we ain’t makin' no love song
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| This bullshit you sold me got Inisotol no soda on it
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| I straight dropped and lost 20 grams like what the fuck is you smokin' homie
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| Red Camaro, white rally stripes, gon' probably be on TV
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| Move wrong while the tool on, I’ll put your ass on Street Beat
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| Repeat, you see me, I’m a repeat offender
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| Park the whip, lay under houses, hear you’re moving round with the stethoscope
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| Arrested for a little vestiges to teach these pussy niggas 'bout stretchin' coke
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| Bend the bend with the machine gun, like, «Say hello to my little friend»
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| Chick I met at Texaco, down here for school, not visitin'
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| Say it’s about to get interesting, bitch say she from Michigan
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| Coke and rock and choppin' off 'em, private goin' on shopping sprees
|
| Glock in my back pocket, already cocked okay I’m clockin' cheese
|
| Strap jump off the hinges in the trenches, all in alleyways
|
| Had to say, each and every day we grabbin' paper
|
| Live the hustle, probably die, gangster and etcetera
|
| Sometime I can’t take no break, they keep callin' my cellular
|
| This the game and we know this life we gon' be alright
|
| Ain’t no sleep tonight, bitch we out here chasing paper
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| Shipment just come in, drop work in Ponchatoula and Springfield
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| Extended clip, on the nine milli, a lot of hollow tips, no refill
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| Imagine how the fuck we feel, in the winter time no heat here
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| I sleep here, all my smokers beg, bum, and borrow for free beer
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| And we feel, you need a nigga like me in your life
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| Grind time it’s goin' brroommm
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| I listen to the radio, we all fly, shawty say she all mine
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| Color all in the wrong lines, to the dope game I got strong ties
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| I’ve sold cocaine, this all the time
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| Favorite old song, entitled «White Lines»
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| Watch rich people snort white lines, with white wine at dinner parties
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| I been retarded, I leave a party
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| People start to leavin' like we the party
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| Thuggin' on, don’t mention it
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| Pockets full of Benjamins
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| Coke and rock and choppin' off 'em, private goin' on shopping sprees
|
| Glock in my back pocket, already cocked okay I’m clockin' cheese
|
| Strap jump off the hinges in the trenches, all in alleyways
|
| Had to say, each and every day we grabbin' paper
|
| Live the hustle, probably die, gangster and etcetera
|
| Sometime I can’t take no break, they keep callin' my cellular
|
| This the game and we know this life we gon' be alright
|
| Ain’t no sleep tonight, bitch we out here chasing paper |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Paper Chasers, artist - Kevin Gates. Album song Luca Brasi Story, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп