Surround Sound
JID
I know I can't afford to stop
For one moment
That it's too soon to for-
Push the fuckin' pack off of the porch or break a pound down
Get the strap, if it happen to blow, it make surround sounds
Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town, down (uh, uh, wow)
Puttin' rap on my back and I'm black and, snatchin' crowns (uh, whoa)
I done came back around like a nigga sellin' crack and pounds
I got a bag now but it's nothin' to brag 'bout
Gun blast in the background (doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-dot-soot)
I'm a black man with the blood hounds
MAC-10 makin' love sounds to a bad chick, she from Uptown
I'm from down South, not a loud mouth
We could fuck around (whoa, shit, whoa)
Hit the music, baby, cut it down (whoa, shit, whoa)
Hit a doobie while you do me indubitably (whoa, whoa, whoa, shit, whoa)
I feel like I'ma bust now
I feel like a buss down (whoa, shit)
When I shine bright, blind niggas is up now (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
In the cut big black truck (whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
Pack sacked up, you can pick it up now (whoa, shit, oh)
Nigga, fuck it, okay (ayy)
Push the fuckin' pack off of the porch or break a pound down
Get the strap, if it happen to blow, it make surround sounds
Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town, down
Puttin' rap on my back and I'm blackin', snatchin' crowns
I know I can't afford to stop
For one moment
That it's too soon to for-
Me and my money attached emotionally
I get to clutchin' if you get too close to me
I'm at the top where I'm 'posed to be
Jumped in the game, niggas act like they coachin' me
Four hundred racks ain't shit but a show to me
I'm on the road and I bet that yo' ho with me
When I'm in traffic it's always a pole with me
Pillsbury, man, I keep dough with me
Hit from the back, she givin' me slurp and I ain't even pull my pants down
Jump in the box and slide to the other side, it's always a man down
Draw down, hands in the air, nigga, make one move, get gunned down
Givin' out smoke so long, they don't even wanna talk no more, they just run now
No lock doors, I serve with a chop, bitch got spent, she was hangin' with a opp
We call him Mickey, he talk to the cops, I was on Pinedale, glass in the sock
Back in the day, I invest in the block, fast forward now I'm investin' in stocks
I put a drum on a Heckler & Koch, don't play 'cause I'm very invested in shots
Push the fuckin' pack off of the porch or break a pound down
Get the strap, if it happen to blow, it make surround sounds
Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town, down
Puttin' rap on my back and I'm blackin', snatchin' crowns
I put the pussycat in his face 'cause he stay off Cheshire Bridge
Then I took it back, now he say that he shakin' and he shiverin'
Like the way it taste and he ain't ate it in a minute
They call me Yung Baby, but I still got hella ch-
Oh, shit, run that motherfuckin' crown, you bitch
You motherfuckin' bitch (oh, shit)
Uh, shit
Sorry in advance for my bros, they'll whoop a nigga ass
What you whippin' up? (Whoa)
JID in the back, if you lookin' for the dope
Niggas got it in the bag 'cause we trappin' on the low
And I'm the shit with the flow, huh, give me a joke
Heard a nigga say that you the next? No, no, no, I'm the best
Tell them bitches stop the mothafuckin' press
Press stop, fuck a top five list
Get 'em a vest, he get lopsided
Fuck the cops we was runnin' from Rottweilers
Most of my partnas ain't have poppa just a popped condom
Couple kids with Alzheimer's, .40 on his side, boy, you Mike Alstott
He on the block violent
Robbin' niggas in the hood and then swap genres
Green light, line a nigga up, stop sign him
Keep drivin', you will not find him
I'ma, I'ma, I'ma anom-anomaly
I turned into a rapper ironically
I ran the bag up, back up, niggas is on to me (whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
Niggas should honor me, if you think I'm a wannabe (whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
It's pretty comedy, I'm melancholy and cool, so calmly (whoa, shit)
Bussin' moves, my truths carry velocity (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
Same posse since OshPosh B'gosh, pussyclot
Treat the rappin' like I'm pushin' rock (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
On the stove with the Pyrex pot
The door stay locked, it don't say knock
We on they block, we own they block (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
It's Monopoly games, we stole they properties
Smooth talkin' and moonwalkin'
The same lil' niggas, small pond but a pool shark (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
I aim big stick, knock chalk off cue balls (whoa, shit)
Bang this shit (bang, bang, bang)
(Bang, bang, bang)
compositores: Destin Route - Nuri Saberin - Sheyaa Bin Abraham-Joseph - Tate Farris - John Welch - Gabriel Guerra - Charles Singleton - Eddie Snyder
Você é fã de JID? Gosta da letra da música?
Compartilhe com seus amigos.
For one moment
That it's too soon to for-
Push the fuckin' pack off of the porch or break a pound down
Get the strap, if it happen to blow, it make surround sounds
Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town, down (uh, uh, wow)
Puttin' rap on my back and I'm black and, snatchin' crowns (uh, whoa)
I done came back around like a nigga sellin' crack and pounds
I got a bag now but it's nothin' to brag 'bout
Gun blast in the background (doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-dot-soot)
I'm a black man with the blood hounds
MAC-10 makin' love sounds to a bad chick, she from Uptown
I'm from down South, not a loud mouth
We could fuck around (whoa, shit, whoa)
Hit the music, baby, cut it down (whoa, shit, whoa)
Hit a doobie while you do me indubitably (whoa, whoa, whoa, shit, whoa)
I feel like I'ma bust now
I feel like a buss down (whoa, shit)
When I shine bright, blind niggas is up now (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
In the cut big black truck (whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
Pack sacked up, you can pick it up now (whoa, shit, oh)
Nigga, fuck it, okay (ayy)
Push the fuckin' pack off of the porch or break a pound down
Get the strap, if it happen to blow, it make surround sounds
Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town, down
Puttin' rap on my back and I'm blackin', snatchin' crowns
I know I can't afford to stop
For one moment
That it's too soon to for-
Me and my money attached emotionally
I get to clutchin' if you get too close to me
I'm at the top where I'm 'posed to be
Jumped in the game, niggas act like they coachin' me
Four hundred racks ain't shit but a show to me
I'm on the road and I bet that yo' ho with me
When I'm in traffic it's always a pole with me
Pillsbury, man, I keep dough with me
Hit from the back, she givin' me slurp and I ain't even pull my pants down
Jump in the box and slide to the other side, it's always a man down
Draw down, hands in the air, nigga, make one move, get gunned down
Givin' out smoke so long, they don't even wanna talk no more, they just run now
No lock doors, I serve with a chop, bitch got spent, she was hangin' with a opp
We call him Mickey, he talk to the cops, I was on Pinedale, glass in the sock
Back in the day, I invest in the block, fast forward now I'm investin' in stocks
I put a drum on a Heckler & Koch, don't play 'cause I'm very invested in shots
Push the fuckin' pack off of the porch or break a pound down
Get the strap, if it happen to blow, it make surround sounds
Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town, down
Puttin' rap on my back and I'm blackin', snatchin' crowns
I put the pussycat in his face 'cause he stay off Cheshire Bridge
Then I took it back, now he say that he shakin' and he shiverin'
Like the way it taste and he ain't ate it in a minute
They call me Yung Baby, but I still got hella ch-
Oh, shit, run that motherfuckin' crown, you bitch
You motherfuckin' bitch (oh, shit)
Uh, shit
Sorry in advance for my bros, they'll whoop a nigga ass
What you whippin' up? (Whoa)
JID in the back, if you lookin' for the dope
Niggas got it in the bag 'cause we trappin' on the low
And I'm the shit with the flow, huh, give me a joke
Heard a nigga say that you the next? No, no, no, I'm the best
Tell them bitches stop the mothafuckin' press
Press stop, fuck a top five list
Get 'em a vest, he get lopsided
Fuck the cops we was runnin' from Rottweilers
Most of my partnas ain't have poppa just a popped condom
Couple kids with Alzheimer's, .40 on his side, boy, you Mike Alstott
He on the block violent
Robbin' niggas in the hood and then swap genres
Green light, line a nigga up, stop sign him
Keep drivin', you will not find him
I'ma, I'ma, I'ma anom-anomaly
I turned into a rapper ironically
I ran the bag up, back up, niggas is on to me (whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
Niggas should honor me, if you think I'm a wannabe (whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
It's pretty comedy, I'm melancholy and cool, so calmly (whoa, shit)
Bussin' moves, my truths carry velocity (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
Same posse since OshPosh B'gosh, pussyclot
Treat the rappin' like I'm pushin' rock (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
On the stove with the Pyrex pot
The door stay locked, it don't say knock
We on they block, we own they block (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
It's Monopoly games, we stole they properties
Smooth talkin' and moonwalkin'
The same lil' niggas, small pond but a pool shark (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit)
I aim big stick, knock chalk off cue balls (whoa, shit)
Bang this shit (bang, bang, bang)
(Bang, bang, bang)
compositores: Destin Route - Nuri Saberin - Sheyaa Bin Abraham-Joseph - Tate Farris - John Welch - Gabriel Guerra - Charles Singleton - Eddie Snyder
Você é fã de JID? Gosta da letra da música?
Compartilhe com seus amigos.
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