Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Tuck Ya Ice, artist - Trick Daddy. Album song Back By Thug Demand, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 18.12.2006
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Slip-N-Slide
Song language: English
Tuck Ya Ice |
Tuck, tuck that |
Tuck, tuck that |
Tuck, tuck that |
Tuck, tuck that |
Tuck, tuck that, ice in |
You ain’t, you ain’t, iced out |
Tuck, tuck that ice in |
I shine like a lighthouse |
Tuck, tuck that ice in |
You ain’t, you ain’t iced |
Lights on, lights off |
I shine like a lighthouse |
Tuck, tuck that, ice in |
You ain’t, you ain’t, iced out |
Tuck, tuck that ice in |
I shine like a lighthouse |
Tuck, tuck that ice in |
You ain’t, you ain’t iced |
Lights on, lights off |
I shine like a lighthouse |
My shit is platinum |
These assholes wearin' white gold |
See I’m to smart for this cause |
All my shit paid for |
And why should I rent a house |
When I can huy it and write it off |
Make it my Florida home for the summer |
Round winter time just rent it out |
See I ain’t none of them |
Who ride around on rented rims |
Change on the weekend |
And floss in him mama’s Benz |
See when I hit the scene |
I be so fresh so clean |
White fitted, white tee |
Ain’t nan nigga like me |
What kind of shit you on |
Wearin' fuckin' rhinestones |
Them cubic zirconia son |
Them ain’t fuckin' diamonds |
So you gonna fuck around |
And get gangrene at the arm |
Who’d rob and kill one |
Over some mother-fuckin' slum |
Your chain is crazy |
That shit for gazey |
And it ain’t real |
Unless its copper or stainless steel |
So whoever made it… |
You shouldn’t have paid it |
Twenty grand for a watch |
Thats fuckin' gold plated! |
16 out the house |
17 gold mouth |
18 on the block |
Nigga got them thangs out |
Birdman stunna, nigga we don’t sit in jail |
Real nigga’s do real thangs |
You know we make bail |
Trick hit me on the cell |
Know I gotta make a sale |
Found myself in Dane County |
Nigga’s movin' pounds of bail |
So fresh, so bright with the ice |
Nigga you could loose your life playing with the bright lights! |
Yea |
Khaled got my back |
I’m strapped nigga in Prive |
Doin' it big, poppin' bottles, nigga the g-way |
Black handles, black ice, we’ll get it right |
For a cheap price nigga that cutter’ll get your mind right |
M.O.B. |
to a bitch |
Made my hood rich |
Quick cash, young money, it’s that uptown shit |
Ballin’one them bitches |
Shock callin' on them bitches |
Two million on some ice and some cars on them bitches |
They asked the kid the difference between mine and his |
See my shit blindin' |
His shit don’t shine |
Cause that shit ain’t real |
His gemstones, they fruity pebbles |
Just like Flinstones |
And he had his «Roley» on |
But I ain’t even notice his arm |
But his diamonds cloudy |
And he ain’t shiny |
And I heard his shit «Tick Tick Tickin'» |
Oh man, this nigga* trippin! |
See we poppin' bottles and smokin bugga |
Actin' cocky |
Big thangs with fat pockets |
Wearing seventy-thousand dollar watches |
My overseas friends |
Are breakin' thangs in |
Invest in a smaller hit town |
Shakin', bakin’and breakin' it down |
We gettin' top dollar |
Cause we got that top powder |
Hoes slob on our johnson |
Cause johnson got that best powder |
We call a grand a dollar |
We gettin' money holla |
Rollin' hard with five fives |
Real fucking street ballers |
I did five trucks since the first quarter |
I’m on the right path at this rate |
I’ll be sellin' slabs by the halfs |