| BMFBG nigga
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| ATL Jacob
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| Yeah
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| Skrrt, skrrt
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| ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob
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| Shout out to the ahks, As-Salaam-Alaikum
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| Motherfuck the cops, run up all the paper
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| Wintertime, drop the top, flex on all the haters
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| I’m in love with diamond chains, fuck a wedding ring
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| Love to spoil myself, I by myself everything
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| Rolex, Audemar, fuck a Breitling
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| I damn near lost it all in the dice game
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| I kept my mouth closed when the folks came
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| My name on fire in the streets, I’m talkin' propane
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| Section 8 ENT, that’s gang gang
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| I bet a nigga never snatch my chain
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| That tripple crossin', watch out for them chain snatchers
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| All this money I got, I send them kidnappers
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| I’m all about a sack, I’m talkin' Urlacher
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| Pack touch down, Green Bay Packers
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| Bitch I’m 'bout to blow, like a dynamite
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| I’m doin' a hundred smashin', don’t stop at that red light
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| Black Amigo Scooter, yeah I’m Zone 6 flexin'
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| I’m rich as hell, now mama ain’t no more stressin'
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| Me and VL Deck juggin', ride in the old Lexus
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| OG Cali kush, all I smoke is pressure
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| They call me Jugg King 'cause I’m a plug catcher
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| You broke boy, you ain’t movin' but an ounce or better
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| Thirty-five hundred on a Louis sweater
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| Don’t hit the door if it ain’t five bricks or better
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| Twenty pounds or better, I’m a big bettor
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| Real dope boy, I can wrap the bales in the leather
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| No nothin' beat a double but a triple cross
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| I take a nigga off, I take another loss
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| Walk into my house, I got a pack vault
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| I’m a real hustler, yeah I made myself a boss
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| No nothin' beat a double but a triple cross
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| Double cross me, you get knocked off (whoa whoa)
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| We put them dirty birds with the clean chickens (whoa whoa)
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| We put 'em all together, call it remixing (whoa whoa)
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| It’s Magic City Monday, 'bout to fly in town (yeah)
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| Your plug price too high, I’ll shut him down
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| I get a hundred mil, I’m moving underground
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| Pink diamonds in my teeth, pink codeine in my cup
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| Pink molly in my system, I got pink pills, what’s up?
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| Section 8, VL, that’s my partner 'dem
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| Pull up in a V12, you can’t interfere
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| Space coupes, oops, I just made the world disappear
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| If you sellin' bales in the field show your skills
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| Half a ticket for club face Richard Mille
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| Already had sauce and drip, now I got spill
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| Lil Haiti goons right with me 'til infity
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| When we roll up on the opps don’t show no sympathy
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| I just fucked a check up at the store, brrt, brrt
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| I just blowed a check on your ho, brrt, brrt
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| Chinchilla draggin' on the floor, brrt, brrt
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| And we gettin' that bread by the load, brrrt
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| More Pucci for this raw sushi
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| Evel Knievel when she up the speed
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| She just landed in from overseas (word)
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| Once I expand her it’s double C’s (Chanel-y her)
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| Shop sprees, spent a hundred G’s (oh God)
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| I got rich kids, my neck on freeze (brrt brrt)
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| It’s murder squad, they’ll leave you in a freezer (brrt)
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| (I don’t remember nothin', I got amnesia)
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| I go so hard, gotta let it take a breather (hold up)
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| I’m strappin' birdies to my mommy seaters
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| Yeah, gang (brrt brrt)
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| No nothin' beat a double but a triple cross
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| Double cross me, you get knocked off (whoa whoa)
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| We put them dirty birds with the clean chickens (whoa whoa)
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| We put 'em all together, call it remixing (whoa whoa)
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| It’s Magic City Monday, 'bout to fly in town (yeah)
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| I’ll probably spend a fifty soon as I touch down
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| (Your plug price too high, I’ll shut him down
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| I get a hundred mil, I’m moving underground) |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Real Talk , by - Young Scooter. Song from the album Trippple Cross, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп