| Grab the ice while its cold, pop the seal on it, now we pourin' eights
|
| Yeah… yeah…
|
| Doin' shows on the road, no mo local shit, more like tour dates
|
| Yeah… yeah…
|
| Tell ya ho to get a table, and put these hundreds on it, we gon' eat da plate
|
| (ima eat it till its all gone)
|
| Yeah… yeah…
|
| And when its all said and done and ya money
|
| Gone, We Gone Be Straight
|
| Ok now, we gone be alright shawty we gone be straight
|
| My diamonds look like light shawty, that’s why I’m always late
|
| My sideline tryna fight shawty because she want her place
|
| And I don’t wanna play no games with ya, that’s what kids for
|
| My daddy told me 'Never hit her, just fuck her good like you miss her'
|
| Make her stomach hurt no sit ups
|
| Couldna been me she woulda been fucked… ok
|
| Money and God, I put no one above that
|
| That thang you do with you tongue you know I love that
|
| I poured a eight out for my partners dead and gone
|
| I got some partners doing 40 who ain’t never coming home
|
| I know my time coming so I check the Muller
|
| Meanwhile, grab the ice out the cooler
|
| Grab the ice while its cold, pop the seal on it, now we pourin' eights
|
| Yeah… yeah…
|
| Doin' shows on the road, no mo local shit, more like tour dates
|
| Yeah… yeah…
|
| Tell ya ho to get a table, and put these hundreds on it, we gon' eat da plate
|
| (ima eat it till its all gone)
|
| Yeah… yeah…
|
| And when its all said and done and ya money
|
| Gone, We Gone Be Straight
|
| Gettin' them scripts by the pint, 4 by the bottom, 8 in the phantom
|
| Shouts out goes to molly
|
| Shouts out East Atlanta, shouts out to the projects
|
| Shouts out to my closet, naw shouts out to my wallet
|
| And we still young made bosses
|
| No dinner plans but we flossin'
|
| And I’m in the van with that 40
|
| Like a business man, no talking
|
| Ok, that jet I’m in private nigga
|
| Okay, okay
|
| Got a potato at the end so when I shoot it, it be silent nigga
|
| And if you fuck me over, thats on you baby
|
| OG Bobby Johnson, give yo ass that duece baby
|
| Them bullets spreadin' like rumors
|
| That nigga sweatin', get some ice out the cooler
|
| Grab the ice while its cold, pop the seal on it, now we pourin' eights
|
| Yeah… yeah…
|
| Doin' shows on the road, no mo local shit, more like tour dates
|
| Yeah… yeah…
|
| Tell ya ho to get a table, and put these hundreds on it, we gon' eat da plate
|
| (ima eat it till its all gone)
|
| Yeah… yeah…
|
| And when its all said and done and ya money
|
| Gone, We Gone Be Straight |