| Playa I spent too much time, on my grind
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| Trying to shine, just to let y’all take it away
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| So if you thinking I’m all games, pull a number sign your name
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| I’ma make, you a believer today
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| Y’all know me, Fever nigga say it with authority
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| And getting cake, is my top priority
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| Please check the name, I send heat through your arteries
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| Now get it right, look bitch ain’t a part of me
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| I never been that cat, to running up from a nigga
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| I work my H-P with ease, I’ma dump on you nigga
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| They try to box me in, and keep me contained
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| You can’t out-hustle this hustler, so your work is in vein
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| Kevin is quick, to act a fool
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| Look go 'head if you want kid, and I’ma leave your forehead retractable
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| My common sense, is script at all
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| But you won’t know, until your frontal lobe hit the wall and you fall
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| You wanna play with a gorilla, I hope you ready
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| You got some size twelve balls, bitch I hope they heavy
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| Look it’s swallow ten razors, or die by my hands
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| Cause once you duct taped to that chair, you will comply with my plans
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| Like Everclear, I’m a hundred and once percent with gats
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| Let the iron recline back, and put a roof in your hat
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| Call me, Mr. Come Clap shit
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| Fake hustlers get fired and retired, for their pissy-poor tactics
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| Y’all got, the game backwards
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| Look ain’t no Emmys around here, we releasing shots at you bastards
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| I lead the South in assists, and shots in the paint
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| How do you plan to stop something, that you know that you can’t
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| Squeezing triggas, is a hobby
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| But if I have to go to the trunk y’all niggas fucked, I’m bout to hide the lobby
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| My team is full of riders, off in the three
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| Blowing on trees switching V’s, kid is where you gon find us
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| Cause my background, is filthy
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| Look the streets’ll see me in a bodybag, before they see me plead guilty
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| If you a rider, let me see your guns
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| But if you acting and you ain’t packing, playa come up off your funds
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| Understand, I’m the moniacle overheated supplier
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| Who bust and bury the nine at you, niggas who think you got it all
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| I know chemistry, figgas factors and symmetry
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| Some say I deliberately, force hustlers to play the wall
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| We them cats, with Cardier’s for wrist bands
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| Sixes with a kickstand, sitting on fans
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| The problem solver man, Fever stay strapped with
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| Eight at all times, yes thugs armed on blocks with
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| Eight at all times, so don’t fuck with me
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| Fake ass Suge Knights, y’all all chumps to me
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| I came too far to fall off, or go back nigga
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| I’m in the gun range hitting numbers, on your throwback nigga |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Too Much Time, artist - Z-Ro. Album song A Bad Azz Mix Tape, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп