Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fat Raps 3, artist - King Chip. Album song CleveLAfornia, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 10.12.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Tunecore
Song language: English
Fat Raps 3 |
Y’all don’t even trip |
They can’t see me in my shit |
Man, you see me when I whip |
The low breezies with the tints |
Magnifique with the French |
, but I don’t really keep that shit |
Girl get your ass in it or I’ll |
And you know that, roll it in a roll map |
If you don’t know how to roll that |
I’m stash cash and it brings me till I raise the roof up |
If she got them Vici Secret’s she gon' get |
I don’t fuck with niggas, but get rich off niggas call me Colonel Sanders |
If you need my whip call it Bernie Sanders |
Pop that pussy if it’s hot then drop that pussy, what |
If baby girl about it dawg I knock that pussy, what |
I’m tryna tell you what it is, ‘fore I do you wrong |
Then I’ma tell you what it is, call it Google Chrome |
And being broke is something E don’t do |
That’s why I always hear «AE I-O-U» |
She’ll never get her vowed up, no «I do» |
And I’m always going in nigga, no drive through |
No Kreezus, fresh out the box |
This is |
Chasin' the sun halfway to another million |
Trapped door floors, chandelier ceilings |
Bitch you running with the dealers |
Three piece wheel less, parked out front, they gotta feel this |
Dressed out, still geared up |
When I arrive bitches cry like I die |
Fresh to death or what, you decide |
Suck a nigga with that new design |
I wasn’t |
Picked up checks, hella times |
Bathing Ape Lookbook 2005 |
Busy works bees getting waxed in the hive |
I been in the |
High on trees, climb top, look at me, can’t stop ‘em |
Can’t cop it, one to one, and shed it when I dropped it |
Smoked out in the tropics, send your girl to cop me boxes |
Got a lot of for an hour, and then I shower |
In a direction of them dollars, I’m all about it |
Came to get money, won’t leave without it |
Outside we got them low riders hoppin' |
Laid them fat raps, got swollen pockets |
And in the magazines printed all about it |
Live life, get high, change the world, do it all man before you go |
In Europe riding Europeans so it’s not a foreigner |
They like show me the moves, no time for a tutorial |
It’s levels to the game, like who put this shit on story mode |
His story historical |
Mr. Anderson I know Sway ain’t got the answers so I’m looking for the oracle |
All my favorite rappers told me life’s a bitch, so I’ma fuck the world through |
the glory hole |
So that bitch can’t take me to the Maury show |
If she don’t smoke weed, pop pills, suck dick |
If it’s one thing that I hate, man it’s boring hoes |
All my girls love me, so if I die today it’d be like 5,011 some freaks at the |
memorial, bitch |
Got a couple screws loose |
Still in a winner’s circle, you just tryna get off in a loop, fruit, loop |
Turned nothing into two, something into new |
I could write a bestseller outta alphabet soup |
Came up nigga yeah that’s all we do |
The world is in my palms, I’m a fucking |
Girl on my arm, she in love with my charm but |
She can’t hold my hand no, even if she palm read |
First time I met Oprah, boy that was motivation |
Went from standing in course, to starting up a corporation |
All my hoes rated R, all your hoes overrated |
And I fuck ‘em just cause, still no relations, bitch call me |
Yeah, and we got LeBron back |
I’m doing the Johnny Manziel he’ll never sign no contract |
Cause I’m bound to no noun, no person, place or thing |
Could ever percolate no king, I’m in a circle with these rings |
I call Donald Sterling up and said I’m back and proud |
She said I’m mixed, I say would you mix with black and mild |
Bitch bad but she looking for a favor |
She working bottle service hope a nigga come save her |
I just and snap a photo |
She said «Ooh, was this Malibu» all I could say was «No hoe» |
All I need is two blunts and a bottle water |
Need my bitch to be a queen not a daughter |
Bitches with their own cribs offer me a |
you know I get them cause I got them |
looking like somebody shot them |
East side of Cleveland take your life without no problem |
Ballin', we all got a little bit of Pac in us |
You racists I respect you more if you just wore your swastikas |
Keep it twerking, I’m a rapper and a person |
You can tell how I keep smoking, keep cursing |
I’m with Mike Tyson, eating a sandwich |
And my bands hella thick, check the bandwidth |
Cause the DJ came back up and like the backwood |
Eating good, bitch I’m living good cause I rap good |