Lyrics Creeping - Neako, Fresh Moss, Nasa

Creeping

I got five swisher, five dutches
A pack of papers, I’m ready to go
Riding out four deep, my young niggas they letting it blow
A bunch of pills, a bunch of syrup, only one car just to let you know
Where we going nobody knows
We blowing smoke, plus trained to go
We creeping, lurking, creeping, lurking
We creeping, lurking, creeping, lurking
We creeping, lurking, creeping, lurking
We creeping, lurking, creeping, lurking
Yeah, they call me FRESH M-O-$$
I’m killing everything like Columbine
LVLY$L that’s my set, bottom line
Hater’s try to block me, but these niggas couldn’t stop my shine
BXB]
If I ain’t with my niggas, then I’m with my bitches
Inhale smoke, blowing circles to the ceiling
LVLYSL, fuck feelings
Uh, all my bitches drink the Henny' all night
Hop on top, and we rock the dick right
Ain’t got the time if a bitch wanna fight
I just throw the hands up, leave the ho out of sight
Get money, Young ratchet nigga…
Boy fuck the bank, Imma' stash it nigga
Money stretched long like elastic nigga
S.S. Coupe come through, we fuck your main and then we pass it nigga
They call me Young Nass' my nigga
Diamonds shine bright like plasma nigga
If you’re late, let me catch you up up to speed
I’m the illest I’m the realest
I’m in a different league, NASA please
Yeah three chains on my neck, one watch on my wrist
Gotta beat that Bentley breathless, stones all on that shit
Uh, sit back and I meditate, roll up and I levitate
Bust guns never hesitate, getting money bitch I regulate
Nigga’s wanna speculate
Our future world, they yesterday
Spending money on a escapade
Ever since young we’re renegades
We LVL, my bitch rep
I’m twenty four-seven like quick check
Nigga’s up now so we got next
Give a fuck about a hater, leave a nigga to rest
Uh, ask around Fresco known around
World gang golden child, yes a nigga holds it down
Popping perc’s, whylin' out, smoking dope with my wild nigga’s
Paper route like a paper boy, stack my money like Yao nigga
Bet our gang getting money man, stacking money we proud nigga
LVL we up nigga, YSL we up nigga
Uh, your nigga wanna bust it open like a sesame
Trying to make me fumble, that’s a penalty
Bitches dog food, eating up the Pedigree
Health/wealth to the top, prosperity
Uh, gotta level up, take a flight mentally
These bitches lurking I can smell the envy
Mixed with jealousy, but I ain’t trying to be like Remy catching felonies
Nah
One ounce, two strains
Three’s up, four chains
Five cars, six bitches
Seven digits, eight dames
Top cat, nine lives
Flow sharp, like ten knives
Your main bitch is my main side
I’m trained to go and I’m ready to rob