Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Boy , by - T.I.. Song from the album Free Crack II, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 31.08.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Stacking Sterling
Song language: English
Boy |
| Pulled up, parking lot stunt, boy |
| Thousand dollar jeans full of hundreds, boy |
| Nigga we ain’t worried bout nothing, boy |
| Everybody with me getting money |
| Pulled up, parking lot stunt, boy |
| Thousand dollar jeans full of hundreds, boy |
| Nigga we ain’t worried bout nothing, boy |
| Everybody with me getting money |
| I’m a boss stacking all this money |
| My safe stay full of new hundreds |
| My trap house still doing numbers |
| Show you how to turn nothing into something |
| I pull up to the scene, they like «Bibby what you on?» |
| Got the chrome, one up in the dome, play I’ll get you gone |
| Money on my phone, so I told that bitch hold on |
| Put the business first, then see what the hoes on |
| Young nigga stunting, walking round with this gold on |
| I would flood the block but I ain’t tryna get told on |
| Niggas dissing, acting like some women |
| Hey but we ain’t really tripping cause we got some pots to piss in |
| Pulled up, parking lot stunt, boy |
| Thousand dollar jeans full of hundreds, boy |
| Nigga we ain’t worried bout nothing, boy |
| Everybody with me getting money |
| Pulled up, parking lot stunt, boy |
| Thousand dollar jeans full of hundreds, boy |
| Nigga we ain’t worried bout nothing, boy |
| Everybody with me getting money |
| When we pull up as the shit and go get your bitch’s attention |
| She wishing her and my dick could have a head on collision |
| My guarder number one, we be bumming in your direction |
| They get permission from me, they gon turn her with no ignition |
| King, double Styrofoam for the lean |
| Puffing 15, 30 grand in my jeans |
| And when I’m seen on the scene, it’s obscene |
| And a vert so clean, half a million dollar chain |
| Ask a ho who run it they go yelling out our name |
| Hustle gang bang green bitch, all we know is bank rolls |
| Get dough when the bank close, and there ain’t no |
| Stopping, our feet kicked up where you can’t go |
| They can’t paint no picture no clearer |
| Fuck with us, wreak havoc, bring terror |
| No there ain’t no nigga like us in your city |
| Pulling up, sucker like no he motherfucking didn’t |
| Pulled up, parking lot stunt, boy |
| Thousand dollar jeans full of hundreds, boy |
| Nigga we ain’t worried bout nothing, boy |
| Everybody with me getting money |
| Pulled up, parking lot stunt boy |
| Thousand dollar jeans full of hundreds, boy |
| Nigga we ain’t worried bout nothing, boy |
| Everybody with me getting money |
| Grind so hard I ain’t slept in four days |
| Niggas hating on the bench, they don’t get no play |
| Haters gon hate, everything ok |
| Young nigga from the streets getting money both ways |
| And we get that straight drop shit, straight from the tropics |
| Then I rerock it to double up them profits |
| Catch me on E block, now I’m with the D cop |
| Word around town Lil Bibby got the streets locked |
| Niggas mean mugging, so I got the heat cocked |
| Wheat timbs nigga, we don’t do the Reebok |
| My young boys on bullshit, boy |
| Just watch, I’ll show you how to do this shit, boy |
| Pulled up, parking lot stunt, boy |
| Thousand dollar jeans full of hundreds, boy |
| Nigga we ain’t worried bout nothing, boy |
| Everybody with me getting money |
| Pulled up, parking lot stunt, boy |
| Thousand dollar jeans full of hundreds, boy |
| Nigga we ain’t worried bout nothing, boy |
| Everybody with me getting money |