Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song In da Mornin, artist - Big Krit. Date of issue: 10.11.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
In da Mornin |
| I wake up in the morning |
| Pull them panties to the side |
| And I’m twistin up that Cali |
| Cause you know I stay high |
| For my bitch to count my dough |
| Wake up in the morning |
| For my bitch she fuck me back |
| After I nut she clean it up and the we count a stack |
| If you were around the corner |
| You could probably hear her moaning |
| I wake the neighbors up |
| Cause I fucking every morning |
| I’m a mutha fuckin gangsta |
| Got some straps up in the closet |
| In these streets is beef |
| So I keep the duce in my pocket |
| Even tho I’m on probation |
| Keep the blunt in rotation |
| Smoking some fire |
| Got it from my connect and he Jamaican |
| I’m just tryin to make a dolla outta 15 cents |
| So I hit the block |
| And straight pimp me a bitch, uh |
| My daddy told me nigga get it how you live |
| So it’s Money over bitches |
| Nigga that’s just what it is |
| Keepin it G til I die |
| To these bitches I lie |
| Walk out the mall |
| Looking so flyyyyyy |
| All I know my bank account |
| Got long ass digits |
| California weed |
| Counting cheese |
| Fuckin bad bitches |
| I wake up in the morning |
| Pull them panties to the side |
| And I’m twistin up that Cali |
| Cause you know I stay high |
| For my bitch to count my dough |
| I’m tired talkin early morning fucking |
| Bed side sucking |
| Why you turnin on ya oven |
| I was pullin out and bustin on her |
| Back never in her cat |
| Never in between |
| If you gotta |
| Superbad bitch like mine |
| Shawty know what I mean |
| I’m talking slob on my nob like a pro |
| Zonin… blowing |
| She might never let it got |
| On the low |
| She’s a very freaky girl |
| Don’t say no to daddy |
| She get wet when I swang |
| Dump it in my Cadi |
| She built like a thoroughbred |
| Ride like a glass house |
| Push on the pillow |
| She shake and shiver |
| And mad shy |
| Breakfast and champagne |
| Band and ass and titties |
| Kush and orange juice |
| Serving up and hella pimpin |
| I wake up in the morning |
| Pull them panties to the side |
| And I’m twisting up that Cali |
| Cause you know I stay high |
| For my bitch to count my dough |
| Yea I wake up with hard dick |
| And the bitch you was dreaming about |
| She wake up to the realest nigga |
| That all of these hoes is dreaming about |
| I walk in the bank, I’m cleaning it out |
| Jewelry store I’m gleaming it out |
| I’m smacking these hoes |
| And then in skeet on their blouse |
| You keep your own homes |
| I’m just leasing them out |
| WESTSIDE! |
| And I don’t mean the fuckin coast |
| She screaming B.I.G |
| But it ain’t no fuckin ghost |
| The hoes that turned you down |
| Is the ones I fuck the most |
| I’m burning all this bread |
| So we might as well fuckin toast |
| Man these niggas looking at me |
| Like they hoes or something |
| Ya’ll are barely touching green |
| Ya’ll are holes in one |
| These niggas is hoeing cause |
| Damnit life’s a slut |
| But I bust a nut |
| And it’s no wonder why all |
| These niggas look like my oldest son |
| Too me say it ain’t |
| And that ghetto ass dealer man |
| Lighting purple haze you would of thought |
| I was chillin with Killa Cam |
| Goin around and around |
| And around and around |
| This shit it feelin like ceiling flans |
| I feel the hands feelin in my pants |
| Like «shut the fuck up hoe |
| And get in this van», |
| I wake up |
| I wake up in the morning |
| Pull them panties to the side |
| And I’m twistin up that Cali |
| Cause you know I stay high |
| For my bitch to count my dough |