Boats N Hoes

[Intro] Boats and hoes Boats and hoes I gotta have me my boats and hoes Are you ready for some world class vocalization? Get a partner Please shut up Please shut up! (screams) [Verse 1: Don Trip] Okay, flyer than a jumbo jet, all aboard Tell the bitch don't stop sucking till I'm sore Bitch I ball out with just bricks, fuck the score I got this bitch covered like Christian Dior Baby Glock 40, hollow tips, no recoil If I pull it out, you going underneath sore Choppers in the living room, pardon the decor At the moment we are preparing for dinner and war Set the table, a pistol and a fork Live broke or die rich, oh boy, what a choice Buddy, you too broke to have a voice You see, cause money talks and mine will never go hoarse Now back to balling out, me and Star playing HORSE And all our niggas paid too, we playing full court If this is food for thought, then i just served a full course Running circles around you bitches, bet I never pass the torch [Verse 2: Starlito] Well, at least let me fire my blunt up Before you light the lipid flame Might just sign with EA Sports 'Lito, I'm in the game Trip say we playing HORSE They hear me, got a voice It speak for my Polo and your hoe, and they all say "Of course" Took 3 shots, now I got a warrant Dropped off ten racks to my lawyer, before I went on tour I ball so fucking hard, I gotta go to court Press 3-0 on the scale before I ever press record I do the middle man, I really want a Porsche But keep running out of base Running back and forth to the store Dead fresh, dearly departed, been killing it since I started But, I don't get as high as I used to, Vince Carter I'm lying, I'm flying, I'm Brian Pillman high Such a resilient guy, five shots and he still didn't die Well that's cause it was Ciroc and not the Glock Got my pistol and my partners, nigga fuck your props 'Lito, and fuck your couch nigga Met her on her lunch break, that's where I fucked your spouse, nigga Sent her back to work, a fucking nut on her blouse And got a voicemail on my phone of you cussing her out [Verse 3: Don Trip] And now your bitch don't wanna leave, so we forcing her out She say she love me, but that's something I know nothing about (?), kick the slut out my place I'm too fly to be her main, so give me nothing but space Say I get dope by the crate Making dough out of state I move squares around until I'm all out of shape If you don't think we the best, well that's an honest mistake Cause we too sick with this shit, make the thermometer break [Verse 4: Starlito] Used to more bricks of the shit Color, Obama and them place Got two different whips, both them same color, okay I'm talking white like a virgin wedding Who cutting the cake? Me and Trip in this bitch, this the Step Brothers mixtape