Curren$y - Blood, Sweat and Gears - Tekst piosenki, lyrics - teksciki.pl

Blood, Sweat and Gears

Curren$y

Covert Coup

15

Rap

Tekst piosenki
[Intro] Take this opportunity to roll up Locate ya lighters [Verse 1: Curren$y] Laced David Robinson's, Wally moccasins Matte black paint, polished rims The fuck you said, I ain't hear clear Too much money talking in my ear The end result of two albums in one year Blood, sweat and gears, life in between the racing strips We break day everynight Alternative lifestyle, I ain't looking for a pussy boy This trill jet shit, just enjoy That's yo wifey but she's still a Jet miss Give her directions to telly and a checklist Arriving shortly with the items I requested Reinforced the frame with that jive nigga repellant My new plane, maintain the smoke Let you take a couple grams home if you my folk Eyeball you a lil something, I ain't the weed man though But if you give me 15 min, i'll call my folks, he'll be at the door Connectin' 4 marine batteries on one side of the trunk To go with them other 4 batteries Thats powering the pumps Its the juice in them cylinders that make that Chevy jump You already know ain't gotta tell ya bout it partner Yo bitch stay talkin and you steady eavesdropping [Bridge: Fiend] Rolling trees can do something for you No matter what you be goin' through [Verse 2: Fiend] Execution flow Ten thousand grams of potassium Streets I roam, Mama praying like the Vatican My life feels like treadin' water in the ocean Who's panickin' I'm dope, sudden moves is drug traffickin' Tell I'm gettin' dough, I'm getting fat again What I do to hear my loved ones laugh again Say love go on and give me your math again Got a movie later on you'll be actin' in Life is like free throws Some things ya gon' miss Some things ya make Don't rush, don't wait I call pape time travel machine It can get ya there faster but it can't wake a permanent sleep I never compromise my fresh Smoke kush not cess Why cry I'm blessed I'll lend you the bail out The ones I call my Tank Dogs in the jail house Jets smoking in the club on tour Born in New Orleans all new friends bonjour I'm "je m'appelle International Jones" And Louie scarfs down there smoking one with the homies Walls full of vinyl All bars are final Life of Richie Rich, first name not Lionel International jones Curren$y the spitta Alchemist my nigga Tell them ladies go figure
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