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17.5 Cannons Lyrics - Artist : Curren$y
[Curren$y:]
Jets nigga Yeah Jets nigga Uh Next they'll be dressing like me But back in the G they wasn't stressing like me Good thing I had the balls to boss up If not for that ain't no telling where I might be Ain't no telling who you might see No tint, got your world in my passenger seat, wassup Dropped her off to you With her fingertips and her lips smelling like weed Nigga she been rolling it up Laced locks on my Jordan Ones Naw homie they ain't come like that Ya'll remember Mr. Spitta Mr. Month-After-Month Panic, Don Cannon your nigga right back Bitches just fell through with the loud pack No cigars in my session my crew don't allow that wussup Yeah Yeah Uh Paper planes, personals to the brain Help a nigga deal with the ills of the game The radio station playing favorites And I don't even turn the TV on Cause it ain't about the music artists making no more Its all about scripted realities from their home Fussing with their kids, fussing with their chicks Hundred thousand dollars on the line Run an obstacle course and eat a plate full of shit Lose a hundred pounds, celebrate, get highed up Go to the sober house, lay it down I'm an artist get me the fuck out of here Nick Diamond Supply outerwear Two dope Caprice classics Got suede interior in my slab bitch So be careful where you pluck your ashes Tonguezilla what up Yeah [Don Cannon:] Shout out to everybody supporting the Jets movement Don Cannon the money machine It's real special Curren$y, Smokee Robinson Roll up a doobie or something And oh yeah I don't let no projects go Without having one of my joints on it Ya dig? |
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