Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Slippin , by - Waka Flocka Flame. Release date: 28.04.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Slippin |
| Don’t let me catch you slippin', don’t let me catch you slippin' |
| Don’t let me catch you slippin', don’t let me catch you slippin' |
| Caught a nigga slippin' outside of the parkin' lot |
| Young nigga popped his chain and ran in his pockets |
| No mask so you know who got it |
| But you scared to get it back cause you know they 'bout it |
| Don’t let me catch you slippin', don’t let me catch you slippin' |
| Don’t let me catch you slippin', don’t let me catch you slippin' |
| Cause you move to Hollywood you ain’t good out there |
| Send the Pirus get your shit took out there |
| Bring a nigga shit straight back to Atlanta |
| Now them Clay County niggas got kush out there |
| Heard he in the H, I call J. Prince Jr |
| You ain’t from the streets you just rap a lot, nigga |
| Booked for a show in the middle of the hood |
| You ain’t good out there, this is Chi-Town, nigga |
| Asshole by nature, fuck it I’m Trae |
| Run that chain, nigga, like it’s a relay |
| You really pussy that’s what the streets say |
| Fuck who you know nigga, you gotta pay |
| Out in PA, fuckin' with cook |
| Heard your favorite rapper got his AP took |
| I’m seein' green dots, puttin' money on books |
| If he broke he hatin' young nigga get money |
| Fuckin' with the white girl, Playboy bunny |
| Got them niggas lookin' funny have them runnn' in your shit |
| Caught 'em slippin' pumpin' gas, nigga you a sweet leak |
| Got robbed by the bloods now you runnin' with the crips — Nah |
| You niggas ain’t bool |
| Imma call troop, he gon' call big you |
| Now the guns all on you nigga deja vu |
| You a question mark gangster — DJ Clue |
| For that Cuban link chain and that big Rolex |
| You in the wrong scenario — Tribe Called Quest |
| On the jet boy mission all our clips got extensions |
| Tryin' to hold onto your chain, you gon' end up missin' |
| I got shooters in the D, I ain’t talkin' bout the Pistons |
| Grand Theft Auto, send them homies on a mission |
| Pay yo' ass a visit braggin' bout your low ticket |
| Shoulda kept your mouth closed, now we know your business |
| Lyin' on your crib like an infant, kill you in an instant |
| I want the shit for the chicken, I just hit a sweet lick, Charlie Sheen we |
| winnin' |
| Ten toes down with the yoppa, I’m a beast |
| No V-103 like Greg I’m street |
| Don’t give up the money, then it’s RIP |
| Sendin' head shots like the DMV |
| Half asleep, split your wig like the red sea |
| Got stripes in the street like a referee |
| Have a nigga runnin' like a refugee |
| Show you how to rob, got the recipe |
| Do your homework, find out where he be at |
| Where he hide the money put the D at |
| Run up in yo' shit we gon' seize that |
| Then break it down on the g pad |
| Better be, boo you don’t need that |
| Waka Flocka Flame catch me hangin' where the G’s at |
| Rob a dope boy, I ain’t worryin' 'bout prison |
| Can’t call the police 'bout them bricks in the kitchen |