Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Collard Greens, artist - ScHoolboy Q.
Date of issue: 31.12.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Collard Greens |
Oh, oh, luxury, chidi-ching-ching could buy anything, cop that |
Oh, oh, collard greens, three degrees low, make it hot for me, drop that |
Oh, oh, down with that shit, drink this, smoke this, get down with the shit, aye |
Oh, oh, down with the shit, cop this, pop this, down with the shit |
Oh, oh, luxury, chidi-ching-ching could buy anything, cop that |
Oh, oh, collard greens, three degrees low, make it hot for me, drop that |
Oh, oh, |
Smoke this, drink this, straight to my liver |
Watch this, no tick, yeah, I’m the nigga |
Gang rap, X-mas, smoke, shots I deliver |
Faded, Vegas, might sponsor the killer |
Shake it, break it, hot-hot for the winter |
Drop it, cop it, eyes locked on your inner object |
Rock it, blast-blast, new beginnings |
Lovely, pinky how not I remember, fiending |
Give me, give me, give me some |
Freak the freckles off your face, frenchy, freaking, swapping tongue |
Click my link and spread your buns, loose your denim, make it numb |
Blow it baby, no Saddam (Icky-icky, icky-icky) |
Fucking in the car service, thank me for the car pool |
Chromosome, part full, prolly off a Norco |
And gas, not the Arco, popping since the intro |
You shopping from the window, play my favorite tempo |
Oh, oh, luxury, chidi-ching-ching could buy anything, cop that |
Oh, oh, collard greens, three degrees low, make it hot for me, drop that |
Oh, oh, down with that shit, drink this, smoke this, get down with the shit, aye |
Oh, oh, down with the shit, cop this, pop this, down with the shit |
Hold up, biatch, this your favorite song |
Translation: Ven aqui, mami, ese culo |
Tu quieres cojer mis huevos, y papi me desespero |
Chuparse puto pendejo, el pinche cabron — let’s get it |
Nights like this, I’m a knight like this, sword in my hand, I fight like this |
And I’m more than a man, I’m a God, bitch, touche, en garde |
Toupée drop and her two tits pop out of that tank top and bra |
And when I say «Doo-doo, doo-doo,"bitch, that be K. Dot |
She want some more of this, I give her more of this, I owe her this |
In fact, I know she miss the way I floored this, I’m forgis |
I know my Houston partners, drop a four on this |
And focus, and slow it down, alright, let me blow this bitch |
I’m famous, I blame this on you, cash in the mirror |
Hang in my penthouse roof, skyline the clearest |
Watch it, your optics, popping out, you look the weirdest |
Pop my top on the 105, head with no power steering, ah! |
Oh, oh, luxury, chidi-ching-ching could buy anything, cop that |
Oh, oh, collard greens, three degrees low, make it hot for me, drop that |
Oh, oh, down with that shit, drink this, smoke this, get down with the shit, aye |
Oh, oh, down with the shit, cop this, pop this, down with the shit |
Bummy nigga famous, straight from the bottom |
Broke niggas hate it, still never robbed him |
Guns in the basement, out they have a problem |
Kush be my fragrance, we love marijuana |
Function on fire, burn the roof off this mothafucka |
Psych ward is balling, go craze like no other |
Weed steady blowing, pass the blunt to my momma |
Runs in the family, puff-puff keep a nigga fiending |
Faded, faded-faded right |
Shot glass super size, she gon' get some dick tonight |
Meet me at the W, and no it’s not the Westside |
Stick it up ya Southside (Icky-icky, icky-icky) |
Baller futuristic, groovy gangsta with an attitude |
What these niggas make a year, I spend that on my daughter shoes |
Smoking weed and drinking, all the college students loving Q |
We gon' turn it out until the neighbors wanna party too |
Oh, oh, luxury, chidi-ching-ching could buy anything, cop that |
Oh, oh, collard greens, three degrees low, make it hot for me, drop that |
Oh, oh, down with that shit, drink this, smoke this, get down with the shit, aye |
Oh, oh, down with the shit, cop this, pop this, down with the shit |