| Red bone in the back seat and I’m being chauffeured by a junkie
|
| On the movie reel it’s «A Time to Kill» but I’m steady stroking her monkey
|
| And I swear to God, I’ll kick her out the car if I smell my hand and it’s funky
|
| My trap house sits on the street, you could come and see if it’s bumpin'
|
| I can hit the mall for Adidas sneaks, take a bitch to eat and then dump her
|
| Hit Wal-Mart, buy house slippers, come back — the bitch still jumpin' (Boing)
|
| I’m talking goin' PoGo--hold on, I don’t do no Pogo
|
| I’m too fresh to be jumpin' up and down rockin' all of this Polo
|
| Women playing Marco Polo, I ain’t even work the mojo
|
| Ask 'em why they goin' loco, fine and sexy when I’m solo
|
| I’mma sell in Gardere, in the duplex to the right
|
| She can whip around her neck, go get me some shit to light!(Gates!)
|
| I Swear to God, I’m in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight)
|
| I Swear to God, I’m in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight)
|
| I Swear to God, I’m in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight)
|
| You think I’m slippin', try to rip me, bet my pistol work!
|
| I don’t give a fuck and I think Nook would do the same
|
| Clique house on flame, but it ain’t in my name
|
| A couple grand that’s pocket change, I put that on your brain
|
| My swag like cocaine, put that in your vein
|
| Your girl on my dick, say she wanna be for me now
|
| But I got a girl that I love, her name Nina
|
| Every time I dream of, buku cocaína
|
| A bitch calls my phone, wake me up and fucks my dream up
|
| Wait, it’s a sale, calling on my cell
|
| My shit be blowing up
|
| It be too hard to tell
|
| And we be smoking purple
|
| It ain’t too hard to smell
|
| My dope be coming in bricks, it ain’t too hard to sell
|
| White tail, red nose, she a Reindeer (What that is?)
|
| (Sniiiiiiiifffffff) Powder sniffer, still a reindeer
|
| I Swear to God, I’m in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight)
|
| I Swear to God, I’m in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight)
|
| I just fell back in my section with a Mexican supply
|
| Take a good look at this counter, all this white shit 'bout to fly
|
| Fresh up out the pot with lock up, probably go before it dry
|
| Niggas stoppin' by to buy, got Port Allen on my line
|
| In the middle of December block be clickin' like July (Brrrracka)
|
| They say my shit killin' people and I’m helpin' people die
|
| Those who choose to use it, use it, I just happen to supply
|
| Don’t encourage marijuana-- I just happen to get high
|
| My daddy Sam, very smart, he made me sharp before he died
|
| «Stay away if they feet ugly, sucking, fucking entertainers»
|
| Seeing nothing as in payment all she want was entertainment
|
| Grind infinity will make the wrist whip a Mercedes
|
| You already know
|
| You ole bitch ass niggas need to hide y’all?
|
| My lil son fuckin' these house outchea mane
|
| My lil son go to school you know and, yeah
|
| Michael Kors you know, everything Adidas, everything
|
| My youngin' retawdid', he ain’t nothin' but sixteen
|
| Out his mind, out his mind, out his mind, out his mind
|
| I’mma grind, I’mma grind, gettin money, I’mma grind
|
| I just got the big face on my arm like my nigga Stroke
|
| You can believe that
|
| Mane i was bout' to run out and ran that bitch
|
| Big-face Roley on me |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Wrist to Work , by - Kevin Gates. Song from the album In the Meantime, Vol. 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп