![Lil Wayne - Feds Watching - Tekst piosenki, lyrics - teksciki.pl](https://teksciki.pl/storage/images/songs/lil_wayne_feds_watching.jpeg?size=320x320)
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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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