Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 100 Years In The Duffle, artist - Smoke DZA. Album song Homegrown, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 01.10.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Cinematic, RFC
Song language: English
100 Years In The Duffle |
Really |
Turn me up some |
Turn the music up |
Yeah |
Uh |
Narcotics, whole lotta heat like Dragić |
I’m in the streets like for real, you blog it |
I put a bag on your head like a hostage |
'Bout it (Uh), hate a grown man that gossip (Uh) |
Givin' my old swag, they gon' jock it |
I left that in 2012 with phone 'posits |
Put the Bugatti frames on my eyelids (Woo) |
Playa nigga, no polish (Woo) |
A box is mean, no mileage |
Should hold it down in my knowledge (Uh) |
Real ones move in silence |
Lucid dreams, back with my |
G from the pilot |
His TP, owe me a solid |
Scoop my young joints from a college |
Her and her girlfriend lit (And her girlfriend lit), I let 'em both split the |
pole |
I told you bad luck don’t exist (Bad luck don’t exist) |
I made enough off the flip (Uh) |
You got fucked off the bricks (Uh) |
Off point chasin' pussy (Really) |
Nigga, I |
the bitch |
Power of the flower (Uh) |
Value of the dollar |
Loyalty kept me in situations |
Common sense she took me out of |
My cousin made a mill off Arizona |
Back in the 90s Chucks was Eddie Bauer |
I’m talkin' pre-9/11, before the planes hit the towers |
I get the bread and break it with my people |
I’m high in the bitch, just look at my pupils |
My young nigga beat you, I let him abuse you |
These niggas is little bitches like they poodles |
came from Ramen noodles |
I be outside, you at home watchin' Hulu |
For fifty blue hunnids my young nigga’ll shoot you |
If you gettin' money I gotta salute you |
There’s a lot of aroma, no college diploma |
Packs from Arizona, we brothers like zoners |
Just hit your bitch, caught the neck, that’s a bonus |
Yeah, that bitch bad on the 'gram, but she homeless |
Bracin' that Nissan, ballin' like Keyshawn |
I hit the bitch and I throw her the peace sign |
Fiends always hit me whenever they need some |
I told her to hit up a friend for that threesome (Lord) |
Pull up to the check, it’s nothin' on my neck |
AB in my sweats (Cash), I don’t want nothin' but a check |
Harlem nigga, what the fuck did you expect? |
(Got me) |
Big horses on my chest (Pop), pop champagne corks all in the vest (Shit) |
I’m from the side of town where niggas ride around, make you a mural if you flex |
We don’t do the disrespect (Nuh-uh) |
Don’t give a fuck who was in your set |
Shooters at your neck, blues give me a check (Bandits) |
Got that '92 |
Kobe vest under |
I’ma keep gettin' this loaf 'til next summer |
Just like I did last winter 'cause I’m that nigga (Ah) |
Trap nigga turned rap nigga (Facts) |
And I passed on shorty, got her friend 'cause her ass bigger |
(Yeah, Lord) |
Cash getter, he put together the play like a coach |
I’m the hitter in CMG with the thang in the coat |
Oh, you pickin' your favorite, I’ll make an arrangement with the coach |
She said she could swallow the whole thing and then she choke, woah (Uh) |
The hardest |
findin' me is harder than findin' Nemo |
Now all the trolls tryna clock me like Chino |
nigga, get a brick like he Deebo |
I’ma pull up in all black, I ain’t emo |
Your man’s a fiend, he could sniff a whole kilo |
But I ain’t trippin' |
Work was unreal, now that’s science fiction |
They ain’t even realized that the guy was missin' |
Alchemist totin' full metal, aye, go get the shovel, I’m through being mellow |
with you |
Nigga, you dance and your broadie upstairs so I guess they gon' meet up in |
Heaven with you |
Have a issue, got a calculater |
You a dark knight, then I’ma douse you later |
Old games, yo, without the SEGA |
I need 5 G’s like I got the data |
Yeah, yeah, bitch |