Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song From The D To The A, artist - Tee Grizzley. Date of issue: 16.03.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
From The D To The A |
| Off top, run a nigga out his socks |
| Niggas talk more than bitches |
| Niggas really be on cock though |
| Just fucked a ho out in France |
| Paint her face like Picasso |
| I iced out my vatos, I’m really up |
| Big ass Bimmer, big Benz and my Bentley next |
| Don’t play around on my phone, ho, gimme sex |
| Watch on my wrist out of date, but it’s Rolex |
| Grizzley up next, I’m up now |
| Strap your bullet vest |
| 550, 600 hundreds |
| 700 20's, let’s get straight to it |
| 800 10's, what’s that? |
| 8 bands |
| Hit the store and get some rubber bands |
| Let’s get straight to it |
| Everybody come together, everybody got the plan |
| He came with you, so if he steal it fall on you, he on your ass |
| Have your mans call his mans, make sure they ain’t movin' fast |
| Soon as they touch Atlanta, get with Boat |
| Secure the bag, nigga |
| Oh that bag secure, that’s on my mama, bro |
| Asian lil' ho, she ride that dick, Yokohama flow |
| Made that shit double, got an Uzi, I don’t scuffle |
| Not a banger but that banger in my car like an airbag |
| Niggas only aimin' in the sky, call those Air Mags |
| All up in Neiman’s, coppin' shit like fuck a price tag |
| I’m ballin', ain’t near a rap nigga in the game that I’m callin' |
| If I need help, I’ll dial it by my se-celf |
| You swear your bitch faithful, she sent her location |
| I hit her at the trap in Decatur, she basic |
| Chop with the laser, get decapitated |
| Can’t smoke, I’m on papers, hold on… this my Jamaican (love one) |
| Niggas want me dead, so I’m steady prayin' |
| Ain’t no disrespect without retaliation |
| Fuck a hotel, I hit her in the basement |
| Text her later like, «I'm done with you |
| I got a situation, baby» |
| Well shit, bro, let me get her then |
| I’ma dog her out then switcheroo into the lion’s den |
| Nigga talkin' down, my bro got more heat than a fryin' pan |
| Gucci 'round my hair, wrapped tight like Taliban |
| Like I’m Taliban, how we drop shit, go |
| Lot of dreadheads, lot of chopsticks |
| Touch my nigga Yachty, get your top ripped |
| Don’t ask the price if you know you’re not tryna cop shit |
| You the type to look around but never cop shit |
| Ayy, I’m the type to buy the store, make 'em restock it, ayy |
| Beam on everything I own, I will not miss |
| Grizzley by my side like a pilot ridin' cockpit |
| Yachty I might stop rappin' for this one reason |
| If the feds hear this shit I’m doin' a hundred seasons |
| In the hood, shootin' craps in my Yeezys |
| Put angels on you niggas who be playin' like y’all demons, you dig? |
| Middle finger to them niggas hatin' and fakin' |
| They plottin' on my death, I give their mothers deep penetration |
| Diamond choker for some reason give me pure ventilation |
| Every real nigga livin' will respect this collaboration |
| We the bust down brothers, check the Rollies out |
| Say you winnin' one more time, I’m pullin' trophies out |
| Niggas know we out, no Shaqs or Kobes out |
| In other words, I’m with all shooters that’ll blow you down |
| From the D to the A, put respect on it |
| If that’s your ho, why my dick got her mouth on it? |
| I’m from the south, I got diamonds in my teeth |
| I got fur on my fleece, my new ring could pay your lease |
| Lease, nigga |
| Chain on my dresser next to my indictment |
| When they said not guilty I was so excited |
| From the A to the D, bitch you heard Yachty |
| Wraith comin' this summer, I’ma have your bitch drivin' |
| Bitch! |