Lyrics Big - Mark Battles, K.A.A.N., Chevy Woods

Big

Sonus
Uh-huh
Alright
I’m careful who I sit with
You don’t need a beauty shop to get your wig split
Damn near thirty, gotta miss me with the kid shit
Big dick, big hits, bitch, I’m big lit (Uh)
My niggas calculate the work like a Fitbit
If your mama still work, you ain’t did shit
We was really going broke just to live rich
It was me, twelve, young wanting bread, bread
Uh, we 'bout a decade strong (Strong)
Started from the bottom now the check’s way long (Long)
I’m here for a night then the next day gone
Consistent with the mission while the rest stay home
Wrong if you niggas thinkin' I’ma screw it up (Huh?)
They ain’t know the Vasi gang until I threw it up (Yeah)
True enough, now the paper lookin' blue as fuck (Yeah, yeah)
You can feed me any beat and I’ma chew it up
Lock lips, I ain’t into the gossip
I get this bitch jumpin' like a mosh pit (Uh)
On my Harry Pot' shit 'cause we got sticks
Put you in a box quick like Rod' Ricch
Don’t compare a fly bitch to a side dish (No)
Sick of all the fake shit, come and try this
You need some real nigga dick, come and ride this
On some real nigga shit, I’ma glide this
I’m careful who I sit with (With)
You don’t need a beauty shop to get your wig split (Uh)
Damn near thirty, gotta miss me with the kid shit
Big dick, big hits, bitch, I’m big lit (Yeah)
My niggas calculate the work like a Fitbit
If your mama still work, you ain’t did shit (No)
We was really going broke just to live rich (Huh?)
We was really going broke just to live rich
Been about this shit since I was knee-high, nigga
It’s in my motherfucking genes, not no Levi’s, nigga
Independent 'til I die, I need the strings, my nigga
I’m cooking up like I’m the RZA, where the C.R.E.A.M, my nigga?
What do you know about that D-Run fight?
That trailer park livin', roaches scatter under the lights?
Vienna sausage sandwiches don’t sit in my stomach right
It’d take an Alex Haley novel to disseminate my plight, this is life (Life)
What do you know?
Niggas came up from the gutter, for real
I’ve been turning my pain into paper, nigga, ain’t that ill?
Like King Jaffe Joffer, the way that I feel
The nigga you left in the field is at the top of the hill, it went well
On point with my shit, all my lyrics, they impale
Niggas talkin' 'bout smoke, don’t you know that we inhale?
I keep it all to myself, I don’t fuck with the intel
They try to count a nigga out, but I made it off of my will (Ayy)
I’m careful who I sit with (With)
You don’t need a beauty shop to get your wig split (Uh)
Damn near thirty, gotta miss me with the kid shit
Big dick, big hits, bitch, I’m big lit (Yeah)
My niggas calculate the work like a Fitbit
If your mama still work, you ain’t did shit (No)
We was really going broke just to live rich (Huh?)
We was really going broke just to live rich
Street nigga, gotta watch who I talk to
Bought a Rollie and a ring on a walkthrough
Nowadays I can’t chill, I just stop through
Rap nigga, I was ill with the pot too
Huh, I ain’t never sit at the fake table
We can tell by the stitching that it’s fake label
Used to pull up with the syrup, this is not maple
Coach K, they be shootin' like Jeff Capel
'85 SS with the tints on
I’m gettin' too much money for a diss song
Bubblegoose on the stoop with the longjohn
Your main bitch a cheerleader with the pom poms
Look, I’m just sayin', what my wrist saying?
Shoot my shot, I’m like Melo with the headband
California King, got your bitch layin'
And I don’t have short thoughts, I got big plans
I’m careful who I sit with (With)
You don’t need a beauty shop to get your wig split (Uh)
Damn near thirty, gotta miss me with the kid shit
Big dick, big hits, bitch, I’m big lit (Yeah)
My niggas calculate the work like a Fitbit
If your mama still work, you ain’t did shit (No)
We was really going broke just to live rich (Huh?)
We was really going broke just to live rich, bitch
(Yeah)
(Uh-huh)
(Yeah)