Lil Wayne - Feds Watching - Tekst piosenki, lyrics - teksciki.pl

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Tekst piosenki
[Intro: Pharrell & 2 Chainz] Tomorrow, tomorrow Tomorrow, tomorrow Ain't no such thing as tomorrow The way we living today [Verse 1: 2 Chainz] Dreads hang on designer everything Mr. Comme des Garçons, Mr. Alexander Wang Mr. Chain, pinky ring, flow insane, ho insane Man, these shoes I got on, these the hardest I done seen It look clean when you pour it, I remix it make it dirty If she got good head and text me, I text back and tell her "hurry" This that category 5 when I walk up in the strip club Throw it high, make you and George Washington head butt OG's never fed us, now young niggas fed up Ballin' so hard I deserve a and one Baking soda marketing, I'm getting it ain't I? Obviously You a bitch, you a ho, that's just my philosophy And I'm known to kick it like the captain of a soccer team Billie Jean red leather same color Red Lobster And she brain wash ya, head doctor I'mma be fresh as hell if the Feds watching [Hook: 2 Chainz & Pharrell] x2 I'mma be fresh as hell if the Feds watching I'mma be fresh as hell if the Feds watching I'mma be fresh as hell if the Feds watching Drop topping, head bopping [Verse 2: Lil Wayne] Bullet ain't got no name, her pussy ain't got no smell Got this bitch on lock, these niggas ain't got no bail These snitches ain't got no pride, these hoes ain't got no manners These tricks ain't got no magic, ain't that a bitch?. But me, I make shit taste like sugar cane Bout to go to bed with what's her name? Yeah, pussy never felt so good And you know we don't smoke that bullshit Give that shit back to that bull, uh I'm so sick of balling, I'm so sick of balling Ride me like a horse, Bitches call me Charlie. Swear to god, I never met a nigga with enough money I'm riding around in that new thing with no roof like a hush puppy. Shhh, I look down at the stars I could pull a few strings, make it sound like guitars Told that bitch she my boo, now the round of applause Shit, I'mma be dressed to kill, now the dead watching Tunechi! [Hook] [Verse 3: T.I] I Strivers Row my Denim, bankrolls all in 'em I’m maximum, you minimal Make dough, you better get you some Them corners, we be bent in 'em Better ask bout us, we been a fool Shot of weed with the one with the pounds of the weed And the quarter keys of middle school Beeper, sneakers, tennis shoe, that’s all we was hustling for When I pull this strap, you don't do what I say Nigga that's what I would bust it for I don’t take your shit, ain’t nothing bruh What’s all the discussion for? I'm the motherfucking king and I'm doing my thing Ain't my fault you can’t fuck with us You know a counterfeit case make years in prison Got back out, got back to getting busy Keep playing round with it, on the real you can get it Let a goon get a quarter mill, that'll kill it Couple racks on that Versace suit Just in case they watching fool Sophisticated, my surveillance pics just like a photoshoot Givenchy, Balenciaga, YSL and Prada Tom Ford, LonBon, you name it, I got it So I be fresh as fuck, going hard when the feds watching Literally cause I’m menaging when the feds watching, ha! [Hook]
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