Lyrics Throwing Salt - Ponce De'leioun, Iman Shumpert

Throwing Salt

Me n these niggas is nothin' the same
Wish nigga stop throwing Salt on my name
Broke niggas need someone to blame
Target practice I need somewhere to aim
Bitches & money it come wit the fame
Fly points addin' up on the planes
I’ma dog, so a choker my chain
I’ma dog so a choker my chain
Trappin' late nights out in the rain
Niggas be trippin' don’t know how to act
So I stay with the strap in case I gotta bang
SFOG I’m still reppin' the gang
Money talk & money make niggas change
Last time I pulled up in New York
I came in a Ghost, bro came in a range
Yet I Grew up in back block
Lean to cook and cut a crack rack
Shit I had to sleep wit the roaches n rats
I Ain’t see my future till mask off
These niggas be actin like mascots
They Not real, should be half off
I come from the hills, the shit gimme chills
A nigga was broke, took the cast off
Now my watch got a big face
Look a lil bit like a swimming pool
Gucci my fit, money ain’t shit
These Benjamin’s franks Be identical
Smokin' on gas — chemicals
I trap & I rap — tentacles
Bro bro the plug, he show me love
For years he been wanted by Interpol
Me n these niggas is nothin' the same
Wish nigga stop throwing Salt on my name
Broke niggas need someone to blame
Target practice I need somewhere to aim
Bitches & money it come wit the fame
Fly points addin' up on the planes
I’ma dog, so a choker my chain
Finally feel what a villain is
But fuck the ops I be killin shit
Wit a broken heart & a hynny mix
You kno the type of hoes that the henny get
Been through more than a little bit but I’m not the type that you intimidate
I’m the type to illuminate
If they ever try to eliminate
Got Locked but I beat the case
Don’t worry bout what all these goofies say
Stop thinking these niggas raise the same
Wit a yoga flame on they person
Soul plane with this purple
Hit the ground & we running
Whatever they hold in they weapon
Niggas got a bunch of guns you can’t run from
I’m so Chicago & that sunroof on that tahoo ya
Summertime in Madison it’s bumpin' like a pothole
Training pits with t’shirts
Jumpin' fences less you got one
You can’t run from no shot gun
Niggaaa yaaa
Me n these niggas is nothin the same
Wish nigga stop throwing Salt on my name
Broke niggas need someone to blame
Target practice I need somewhere to aim
Bitches & money it come wit the fame
Fly points addin' up on the planes
I’ma dog, so a choker my chain