Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Crazy Story, artist - Only The Family.
Date of issue: 20.12.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Crazy Story |
Got a drop on this flexin' nigga, he from Tennessee |
I had a thot, she be with the shit, she told me where he be |
I said for sure, baby let me know if you wanna eat |
She like Von, «You already know, just put your girl on fleek» |
I’m like, «Cool, I can do that, boo, what, you want some shoes?» |
«Jimmy Choo? |
With a handbag, too? |
Red or baby blue?» |
She get to smilin', she ain’t used to this 'cause she ain’t used to shit |
I’m just laughin', coulda been a pimp the way I move my lips |
I be speedin', coulda been a driver the way I push the whip |
You a ho, coulda been a bitch the way you throw a fit |
But fuck that, right back to the script 'cause this a major lick |
He got bricks, plus his neck is icy and it match his wrist |
Now its like six, told her hit his phone, meet her in The Wic |
But he ain’t go, but he ain’t that slow, say meet 'im at the store |
I’m like cool, let 'im front his move, do what he gon' do |
'Cause this the plot, put 'em in the pot, let it cook like stew |
I grab my Glock, it been through a lot, but it still shoot like new |
We at the top, yeah we lost a lot, but that just how it go |
But check the score, if y’all lose one more, that’s 6−24 |
Let me focus, can’t be zoning out, he pullin' up now |
He double park, he ain’t getting out, he in that push to start |
That new Porsche, it’s built like a horse, colors like the fourth |
He got a ring, I guess he ain’t divorce, wife probably a whore |
Now she walk up, she struttin' her stuff, this bitch thick as fuck |
Got in the truck, kissed him on his lip, he cuffin' her butt |
Now I sneak up crouching like a tiger, like Snoop off The Wire |
Block on fire, so I take precaution, mask on, Michael Myers |
I’m on his ass, he finna be mad, he gon' beat her ass |
But this what happen, I got to the door, I thought I was cappin' |
I was lacking, 'cause there go the opps, yellin' out, «What's crackin'?» |
I’m like, «What?"I'm like, «Nigga who?"I was born to shoot |
I got aim, I’m like Johnny Dang when it comes to chains |
So I rise, hit one in his arm, hit one in his thigh, this no lie |
Bitch it’s do or die, you said you gon' slide |
You got some nerve, your shit on the curb, boy we put in work |
From 64th, and from 65th, we not from 63rd |
(Bitch we not from 63rd |
This the game, put in work) |