Testo Get Your Mind Right - Chief Keef
Testo della canzone Get Your Mind Right (Chief Keef), tratta dall'album Finally Rollin 2 (Deluxe Edition)
It's not a trick question, yeah I'm smoking dope
Walk through the door, get your camera phones
Come through, mechanic shit, get your hammers on
If you want a peace treat, call my cellular phone
It's not a trick question, I don't fuck with opps
I don't rock with cops, I send a bunch of shots
Some cops be cool because they give me passes
Doing 1-10 in my car, they like this nigga savage
I got the glock, tony, sosa I'm sammy
I'ma dog and a lion bitch, I ain't bambi
Catch the bag like randy, long as this money in it
She told me that her pussy tight, I fit my johnny it
Fuck that bitch then I'm dipping, yeah I'm really pimping
I'ma kobe bryant, you's a scottie pippen
I got my semi in it, the club in philly with it
Then I leave philly with a bunch of silly bitches
Tricks are for kids, you need a doctor kid
Cause when I'm done stitching your ass, don't let your mama see it
In my 4k tv house, it's a bunch of sheets
Come in here tryna hit a lick, commercial get a bunch of beats
I'm cooling with the stars in the sky
Don't be fucking with my dogs cause they bite
I hop out looking like some raw in the pipe
Like it's memorials day, got on all white
I had a dream like doctor king
What can you bring to the table, I got lots of things
I got tommies, I got mobster things
Come through like a janitor, we moping things
Forensics come check it out, come in here won't make it out
Like new clothes, I lay it out, boy fuck around, get aired out
You play the shit off, I play it out
You mumble the shit, nigga say it out
Shoot your ass like a lil mud dog
What the fuck you eating, nigga, spit it out
Pull up in a hummer, looking for some mamas
Know I ain't gon' fuck her, cause he looks like his mother
His baby mama comma, cumming on my johnson
Cause I be doing numbers, cause I be getting money
It's not a trick question, what's your machine
I treat your block like a classroom, I'm serving it
Put your face on Sarans, bitch I'm doubling it
Told you my pistol was celibate, don't fuck with it
I'm like a husky, you're like a puppy
I'm sipping muddy all day and night, I'm kid cudi
She got a buddy, and she tryna fuck me
Take that baby home with his pacifier then suck me
I got a blue pipe, it glow like blue lights
Make your face camouflage, you got, right
This dope I'm smoking on, it smoke like, right
You get it, that's a dope line in chicago, all white
Got a bitch named moussi, she give me coochie
This that gucci, no this ain't no coogi
Free gucci, get here with the uzi
Free t-slick, he come through with the toolie
Push your hairline, barber shop
I got a jordan shot, you shoot like chris bosh
I was smoking, I was leaning, leaning hard
I be leaning like I'm standing on the balcony, bang
Credits
Writer(s): Keith Cozart
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