Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Black Mags pt.II, artist - The Cool Kids.
Date of issue: 24.05.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Black Mags pt.II |
Pull a cat, walk up the block in them new grand heels |
it’s '96 and my mama won’t let me live |
I put them rims on the Schwinn like it’s rims on the Benz |
Red mags with the white, slick BMX tread |
You see how we did it, now everyone with it |
Your top five, full of lies without me and Mike in it (For real) |
It’s cool, I ain’t trippin', you niggas know on the low |
Speaking code even zeroes known I been the one, nigga |
Pedal down the foothills, wheelies on the front |
My dog, hey, I’m tryna do a millie in a month |
Me and Tony at the crap, take a break and down a nug |
And it’s big coin hoes, girls stand in the club |
I had the old box bought, Range Rover, it was black |
Ask me how I got it, you know, a lil' this and that |
Shit start to sound like a trap, I had to disconnect |
Gave Chuck a call on the text, but he ain’t hit me back |
Niggas so ungrateful, receipts is gettin' brought up |
Gave him years full of game, and they still ain’t called |
From the gear to the chains to the gears to the frames |
And the tears and the pain came the things we thought of |
From the handlebar grips to the dollars on my bike seat, my mags |
From the handlebar grip to the dollars on my bike seat, my mags |
Black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black |
Black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black |
The black mags on the Dino, Juan stole it from this white boy |
Big bag full of hydro, he was frontin' the zips |
Sendin' bowls from Colorado, you know, that’s the model |
If they sendin' we don’t know you, then he cuffin' your shit |
Screw the pegs on the front, cuz, roll with the strap |
I’m the hammer and the nail, they was buildin' a trap |
Pedal down the foothills, servin' packs of white girl |
My nigga went to jail and he left me his bike |
Yo, I hit the block like stoplights, watch for them cop lights |
Dino rubber wheels, put a nigga in the highlights |
Now I roll ivory bone, dice color off white |
But my bank account’s in the black, Barker not nice, whoa |
I’m whippin' hot spice in the kitchen |
Was the only lil' niggas ridin' bikes on Division |
The skinny jean jokes really put me in position |
Now we wave our flags, we outlast the competition |
From the handlebar grips to the dollars on my bike seat, my mags |
From the handlebar grip to the dollars on my bike seat, my mags |
Black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black |
Black, black, black, black, black, black |
Black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black |
Black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black |