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Unknown Lyrics - Artist : Tsu Surf
'Em dollar signs, why I get this shit straight
I was raised by guns and 'Kiss mixtapes Trap or die, goddamn, that's a sick fate Learn from the best so I stretch when I flip weight See, you could lose a lot chasing bitches But you never lose bitches with your eyes on the riches Paper cuts on my fingers, razor cuts on the dishes Red bag, blue stamps, so the dope say Clippers And don't plan on eating if you not with us I send shooters for the green; I'm so Doc Rivers Niggas mad, cops hate, they cannot get us Bricks by the burr, I can make the hole block shiver Every night re-up, days all flip Dead presidents; I'm trappin' on the graveyard shift I can see, smell, taste me a dollar sign He outta line, that whole block getting Columbine'd No offence, you not eating if you not with mine They say I run this whole strip; I'm the power line Toast to the niggas that's a fiend for the guap And send a shot to every cop that's tryin' to jenga the block Niggas die for this life, shit, believe it or not The OG's planted seeds, meet the cream of the crop See, niggas rob, niggas steal, niggas snitch for it Some pray, some dream, some wish for it Kids turn men, men turn bitch for it Bush went to war, Alpo killed Rich for it I'm looking at this world we call life Tryin' to turn something pretty into a girl I call wife But I might just go and find something for the night Got a couple days left, so I guess it's only right All the hating ass thoughts, you can keep those Whole team turnt, shit, we surfin' till the beach closed Momma say I'm changing, I think she right I text shorty "Let's fuck", I think she might I'm learning how to live in the game And I swear I'm going crazy, but the ends keep me sane Please don't judge me by the flag, or the swag Or the tats, or the team, or the hood, or the habits Or these slick ways, and this probably concealed ratchet ‘Cause I'm cool, but never ever hesitate to clap it They say "Wife her!", I say, "What's the point when Y'all friends and you seen as many tats as her boyfriend?" I don't love her, I don't love her on my mother And her name ain't pants, so why should I cuff her? Difference between us, well, a lot of shit Grind hard, paper stack; this is what I gotta get Coke, weed, CD's – I'm making all kind of flips Black and silver Spur speedin', bitches screamin', "Popovich!" I guess I'm Tony Parker in that damn thing Three, threes, straight, crowd jump and then the band scream Spent 40, so 60 what I'm looking at Jersey Shore white girl; I'm giving out Snooki packs Hit the mall, blow bands till the guap gone Been making movies, this just butter on the popcorn Beach swag, but I move a little goonish Ain't the cutest nigga she seen, but damn sure the coolest Surf's up, anything else foolish Actually this turquoise look a little blue-ish Dolphin got me flippin' through the city Cîroc boy for real, man, somebody call Diddy Do you dig me? She got a nice ass and some titties Go to school upstate, but got a condo in the city From the hood, but my bitches on the upscale Grown shit, got her pinned up without the thumbnail So what you doing with your life watching me? You know what niggas doing with your wife? Time is money, that means it's time to go though Catch another plane flight, add another show though Triple stacks, got this life looking so slow-mo Surf's up, don't forget the hoe though |
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