Lyrics Rollin' - Starlito, Freddie Gibbs, Killa Kyleon

Rollin'

Flying at that pussy in a minute
But bitch, I’m right back in it
And I’m thuggin', fuck that flavored vodka, I’m smoking something
Hopped out my 'Lac in the 'and I left my motor running
My ghetto valley, my nigga, he keep my stash spotless
And I hid my work in my speakers, I know the task watching
Bitch, I’ll put the town to rest, drop a hundred pounds and jet
They could be pimping this pimp
But yo, I’m still ducking them alphabets
FBI, DEA, stay on my d.i.c.k
Probably gonna die a dealer, nigga been hustling dope since '98
Banged in a gang since '95, these rapping-ass niggas ain’t no riders
All we worship is them dollars, dollars where I reside
I’m just rolling, really good weed I’m blowing
With my music holding, make a nigga feel like flowing
When you stop feeling the cold wind, fifteen minutes of showbiz
And I ain’t tripping but my hoe is
Bitches gonna keep bitching and these hoes they gonna roll the dope
Pocket full of money and I still feel broke
Ciroc in my Sprite, my niggas still sell coke
I pour my heart in a song, but in this letter I wrote
I use discretion and codes, never say never but you never know
Down, bad, blowing good, smoke an ounce a session
Used to stretch, just hired an accountant to help me count my blessings
Still hate it when a weak man stop me and leave me stressing
I be like just give me a second like a reelection
Dude smoke that presidential, my bitch fucked, nothing to do
Chop up this pimping with her, and as you guess, she gets screwed
Can’t keep your heart kicking like your shoelaces missing
Probably Harvey Dent’s mistress, you two-faced bitches
I’m just rolling, really good weed I’m blowing
With my music holding, make a nigga feel like flowing
When you stop feeling the cold wind, fifteen minutes of showbiz
And I ain’t tripping but my hoe is
Bitches gonna keep bitching and these hoes they gonna roll the dope
Dance back of that '93, double cups of that thirty weight
Vogues rap my 84s, butter seats on my vertebrae
Candy paint on my doors, bitch, wood wheel what I hold, bitch
Shotgun my new boo, but your new boo is my old bitch
Day-Date on my cold wrist, that’s Time’s Square on my arm, hoe
Yellow stones, I talk money, my teeth shine when I yawn, hoe
Y’all broke niggas so boring, bro, fly niggas stay soaring, hoe
Leaning good on that Purple Rain, my cup empty, I’m pouring more
It’s just a Texas thing, ball like them Jacksons, man
Flosser, I run it, like floss or boss-up, you understand?
Still in it, pitching underhand
But I got the upper, I’m paper touching them fucking bands
I’m just rolling, really good weed I’m blowing
With my music holding, make a nigga feel like flowing
When you stop feeling the cold wind, fifteen minutes of showbiz
And I ain’t tripping but my hoe is
Bitches gonna keep bitching and these hoes they gonna roll the dope
Come meet the alp with me, candy-coated, yeah that’s loud, pretty
The shit I’m smoking got me so high I could tail Piggy
Gun cocked, my trunk knock, girl, I jump out
Wetter than a jump shot, true to clique alumni
Well not actually, I’m a little too young, but I’m posed to be
Actually, we overheard of Big D, well, bitch, I’m the ghost of him
My rap’s elite, pull over, crash the beat like driving on coke and heat
I’m stacking cheese, no limit like Master P, slow motion like Soulja Slim
Gotta get it 'cause we itching
Rapping in a language, only trill can comprehend it
Violate us, guns we lifting, young nigga out here beasting
Hard claw, 'bout to bring my corner back like real reefers, what’s up?
I’m just rolling, really good weed I’m blowing
With my music holding, make a nigga feel like flowing
When you stop feeling the cold wind, fifteen minutes of showbiz
And I ain’t tripping but my hoe is
Bitches gonna keep bitching and these hoes they gonna roll the dope