Testo Get Low - Smigg Dirtee feat. AZ
Testo della canzone Get Low (Smigg Dirtee feat. AZ), tratta dall'album O.T. Gettin It
Prince of the city, chicks peepin', got my peeps with me
Pushin' the pricey automos that'll leave you misty
Strictly, gun holders knowin' shit is risky
It's Ripley's when police try to search and frisk me
Officially, I'm the lowest and you know this
Still the coldest from the oldest to the youngest that's among us
The fungus, I'm focused on the foul shit it brung us
This Matrix is lettin' all this snake shit become us
They hung us, it's hustlers with football numbers
For summers, I seen soft niggas turn to gunners
I wonder, is it a spell people is under?
Light, camera, action, drunk drivin', crashin'
E pill passin', police shields harassin'
I'm askin', when this all really gon' stop?
From silly on the block to Willy with a spot
Now everybody's rappin' like they chilly when they not
Get dough, get low, get your life right
Stay hungry, keep money in your eye sight
And never stop 'til we pop, get guap
Get yours, get props, get away from the block
Get dough, get low, get your life right
Stay hungry, keep money in your eye sight
And never stop 'til we pop, get guap
Get yours, get props, get away from the block
Nothin' can stop us when we all proper
Movin' back to back choppers while they all watch us
At heart we hip hoppers so it's more Oscars
From start, suited up with bitches at the opera
Shorty walks with pimp posture, shrimp lobster
Steak, strawberries laced on the cake
And we don't even bake, but got dough to make
Take trips to the lake, think we play for the lakes
Marlbury with the Jake spin, dribble fake, shake
Vacate, sea breeze for some EPs
Jets skis and Malibu trees, killa Cali weed
And a thick chick mixed with Belize
Believe, eat emcees and won't pull up my sleeves
Nothin' at all to murder dog with a magazine
Niggas please, it don't take much for you to be
Nigga please, it won't take much for you to bleed, breathe
Get dough, get low, get your life right
Stay hungry, keep money in your eye sight
And never stop 'til we pop, get guap
Get yours, get props, get away from the block
Get dough, get low, get your life right
Stay hungry, keep money in your eye sight
And never stop 'til we pop, get guap
Get yours, get props, get away from the block
Yeah, smooth Bobby De Niro, Bambino, hood hero
Outside with the wise guys playin' cee-lo
Slingin' by the fire trap, watchin' for the wire tap
Always knew I couldn't trust dude, he been a liar
Back when I stayed on the second floor, twelve years old
And he would come through, bummy as fuck, frontin' like he holdin'
So it don't surprise me he would grow to be a rat
So when I play the game I stayed in my lane, but never holdin' back
Used to keep the thirty-two lost within my shoulder strap
Always kept it on the cool, so I never showed 'em that
Learned from the older cats, so I kept my dough intact
Get between that, I throw bullets like a quarterback
I'm from the corner that showed you how to score from crack
Write a rap, send 'em to the track and how to hold a mac
Smiff Dirty is the name and I told 'em that
A hundred thousand from the game, I need more than that, yeah
Get dough, get low, get your life right
Stay hungry, keep money in your eye sight
And never stop 'til we pop, get guap
Get yours, get props, get away from the block
Get dough, get low, get your life right
Stay hungry, keep money in your eye sight
And never stop 'til we pop, get guap
Get yours, get props, get away from the block
Credits
Writer(s): Christopher Charles Lloyd, Joel Campbell, Allen Jr. Gordon
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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