Testo F.I.C.O. - Clipse
Testo della canzone F.I.C.O. (Clipse), tratta dall'album Let God Sort Em Out
(Hoo!)
I remember late nights, pissy hallways driving me psycho
The money wouldn't come fast enough
We was back and forth, down streamline
Moving weight was like lipo, the rest of y'all stuck in a rut
Niggas double-crossing, talk behind yo' back
See, that's where the knife go, I guess they wasn't fuckin' wit' us
Some niggas get the luck of the draw
For others, life is a dice roll, and waiting on faith ain't for us
When you young, you realize that you can't trust a mouth where the pipe go
They tried but couldn't love you enough
Dance music on my neck, where's your water bottle?
Diamonds, the light show, looking like the sun in the club
If you re-ing up with us then your credit score gotta be F.I.C.O., I'm talkin' 850 or bust
See you really real power when you make niggas balance on tight ropes
They know they not much for the blood
Have my man shoot yo' block, I'ma send his ass far as the flight go
Ain't worried 'bout ducking a judge
Keep frontin' for yo' bitches, 'cause any minute repo might show
You know that shit up in a month
Heard your man was in there singing for his life, they was calling him maestro
'Cause time that heavy can crush
When you pay a nigga back, like it's layaway, whispering, "Die slow"
The last words you hear in the trunk
You don't know what I know
You ain't seen what I saw, no
You ain't been where I go
Wit' a fetti so strong, you gotta bag it wit' one eye closed
My shooter turn you inside out
I heard the Feds turned the crib inside out
Drop the roof on you niggas, let the inside out
Fresh Prince jacket, boy, I cook 'em 'til they inside out
Go get a Glock, 27 fits snug in the waistline
Both sticks came with the drum
I was 5'6", shoulder with a chip, wish a nigga to take mine
Index yanked 'til it's numb
Used to call me Windex 'cause this thing I spray gon' make you change minds
I done seen Hercules run
We was powerlifting 2.2's, nah, we ain't throw gang signs
My brick walk was second to none
I would have them take a number like DMV, that was the baseline
Checkout on register one
Miami niggas like Big Perm 'cause they numbers was Faizon
Cubans showed me nothing but love
When it come down to it, every Stringer Bell just needs an Avon
Who won't sweep it under the rug
On the road, with a load, nigga, break line, I knew where to place mine
I don't keep the gun in the glove
Hit the turnpike with the running lights that be on in the daytime
'Cause K9s sniff out a crumb
Hands three and nine on the wheel as I'm crossing the state line
Dumb, ditty, dumb, ditty, dumb
Survival of the fittest, you either get acquitted or face time
I done had an infamous run
My story gon' hit the first 48
Then it's on Dateline 'cause this really shit I'd done
You don't know what I know
You ain't seen what I saw, no
You ain't been where I go
Wit' a fetti so strong you gotta bag it wit' one eye closed
My shooter turn you inside out
I heard the Feds turned the crib inside out
Drop the roof on you niggas, let the inside out
Fresh Prince jacket, boy, I cook 'em 'til they inside out
Credits
Writer(s): Pharrell Williams, Terrence Thornton, Gene Thornton, Aaron Cook
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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