Starlito - Paper, rock, scissors
Overige artiesten: Don trip

Aye Craig I ain’t going first next time
Paper, rock, scissors
Step brothers

Last time I checked, I deposit it
Teller tell you that it's obvious
That I’m getting lot's of it
I’m bossed up
I swear it cost so much that's why it cost to even talk to us (yea)
Make sure you get your offer up
Anything I do, I do it all for of us
Got a family that’s depending on me
I’m gambling or I’m spending some of it
All my niggas stay in to something
Got a short fuse that extended on me

Still sleeping on us
You’re in a coma
Don’t believe me
Just wait a moment
My brain cells got paper on them
This 40 glock got a laser on it
Gun you down, spray you up
Balling out, not laying up
Thumb it through, with no paper cuts
If your money talk, it ain’t saying much
My momma thinks I’m a loss cause
Fully automatic, fuck a guard dog
I rock G-shock, no Audemar but I’m still flashy as a cop car
In the grass like a lawn dwarf
Star, I got ya back like a lumbar


Okay, pour a deuce
Pop 1 bar, I’m gone but I ain’t going far
My driver need to be designated
She give me brain
Free education
They pass me bills with no legislation
Going back to Cali
My weed medicated
Keep asking me like everyday
Wassup with that stepbrothers
They either respect it or love it
Now we do it for the check of it
Woke up and said fuck it
Bout to open up my next budget

Now watch how our checks double
A nigga got drive like a lex bubble
Fuck you, pay up no discussion
Ride through the city with a toaster oven
Rob the game like it owe me something
Bruh, I’m going in keep the motor running
My bitch blowing like Etta James
In my truck I got mary jane
Feeling lucky no horseshoe but I run this shit like Edgerrin James
Neva changed, go figure
My brother faded like old pictures
We are not the same see the big difference is you’re softer than a roll of tissue
I know these rappers so frightened cause we handle bars like bicycle
I had to bring them so nice with it that my ink pen drip ice sickles

As soon as I finish rolling up this blunt, I’ll get right with you
So accurate with the heat, I feel like Mike Miller
The fn my lil light pistol shoot chopper bullets look like missiles
And more money and more white bitches that follow order I’m high Hitler
Eastside guerrilla I throw it up like a coin liquor
My money tall but I’m a short nigga
Got so much game I need a sports ticker
Of course nigga we killing this shit
Call the mortician we still in this bitch
As real as it gets I been dealing with splits no divorce nigga
Grind hard no choice nigga
I’m a underdog no forfeiting
Just me her and no intermission
She catch more kids than an orphanage
Live everyday like it's 420
I’m disoriented like the orientals
Had the cookies in the plastic no fortunes in it
No chorus but it’s going on like 4 minutes
Fuck it, Trip go and end it
Bout my commas like a run on sentence
I know I’m a trip no pun intended
Life’s a bitch, you keep playing with it till me and death come pay a visit
And my bullets are like jury duty, in other words anyone can get it
I slap your bitch with my magic stick and treat that bitch like a sack of shit
Dry your eyes, it’s a crying shame but I ball harder than catchers mitt
I’m sitting phat your majesty
I’m getting blowed like allergies
I grind hard no acid grease
I’m flipping pounds like balance beams
Notch!

Writers: Christopher Wallace , Torrance Anton Esmond , JERMAINE ERIC SHUTE , Lincoln Morris

Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

Lyrics licensed by LyricFind