Fresh Out the Barber Chair

Pierce Ripanti

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Pierce Ripanti


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Fresh out the barber chair
Go pick up the bros
Hit plug then pick up the load
He just up the road
On top like look out below
Spit coke can’t breathe up my nose well (well what)
Well less I wanna go there
But nope I’m sick in my own
Don’t need all the blow
Type shit have me stick up the sto
Or grip up ya throat and
Esophagus
I’m like damn p try n be the pacifist (uh huh)
How I always end up on the Opposite
Lil something in my blood and consciousness
My great great grandma used to cotton pick
(I know)
Damn P please drop the shit
But How tf lm posed to drop the drop shit
When kids still get merked by the cops and shit
It’s a democracy you gotta talk and shit
Nah
But anyway, I’m in the stu straight knockin shit
You Know I live in this bitch no stoppin in
Hunnit hours on the week what I’m clockin in
Name the booth Chris Paul Cause it Rocket ship me
And my dogs out the atmosphere
Big T run show like Popovich,
He like to take big risk f*ck consequence
And I’m fine wit it
(And im fine wit it)
Think that’s why the muh fucka so good at monopoly
We try Turn some small to metropolis
Gotta semi- long list of Accomplishments
But it’s not finished, (but its not finished)
If I die for it is, no apocalypse
Its not the end of the world, nah it kinda is
See Ima prodigy, gotta prophecy
When God talk to me, and he be chiming in
He say I gotta win
(P You Gotta Win)
That my dog, one day man we gotta link
Gotta say thank you for the scholarship
You know, Pickin out a path for the problem kid
You know, Giving me a craft I could polish wit
He deserve all credit and acknowledgement
Not no fuckin record labels who want five percent
(Not no fuckin record labels who want five percent)
(Look Look)
Yeah yeah I grew up little Pot to Piss
But since I’m the shit
It’s a pot to shit
Not the nicest shit
But was comfortable
Like my Crocs and shit
But don’t get it twist
You won’t make in a mile in my Mockasins
(You won’t make a mile in my moccasins)
(Yeah)
You won’t make a mile in my mockasins
(You won’t make a mile in my moccasins)
(Yeah)
Plus the curly locks, get me compliments
Girlies come by 2, like they Pac and shit
But da girls have ways, of distracting kids
Like back inna day, I was Locking lips
On the highschool stage, Wit my soccer chick
(That’s on the highschool stage wit my soccer chick)
Used to gimme top for my class and shit
I’m not gassin shit that’s all facts n shit
I ain’t tryna be on no Braggin shit
Just thought that I would establish it
Please excuse my voice on some raspy shit
I just popped some shit
And I’m off the shits
I live cautionless
Got a Raunchy chick
Got a bossy chick
Got a awkward chick
Got ballsy bitch who ain’t never scared of no argument
Got a sporty chick, she just ball and shit
Got a grown ass chick, Wit a awesome kid
That’s a Arsenal
And you empty hand, that’s unfortunate
But just hit my phone, I can sort some shit
Just don’t try for mine, put a fork in it
(Put a fork in it yeah)
Got a little freak From the Middle East every fit on fleek, she be scorching shit
And she love eat but she not gon eat if it’s pork in it
I support the shit
She support the kid
But I lost the chick
She want more from me
And that’s forcing it
How unfortunate
See
Rap is like Sorcery
the odds disproportionate
My angel say no he didn’t
My devil say course he did
My ego at war wit me
But I just ignore the shit
Ya ego born to break
It’s fragile like porcelain
I found a lil groove and spot
I don’t follow rules or abide
I live in the booth and the box
But I can do suit and a tie
Regardless of hoopin or not
Imma be shooting my shot
Wondering who can deny
I just want the loot and the power
I just want loot (yeah)
Got nothing to lose
A Shooter gone shoot
The f*ck you gon do (yeah)
We Plottin on food
Till money on cool
And tummy on full (yeah)
Was a funny young bull
Now she wanna young bull
And she wanna come through (Yeah)
Man it always Come full (Yeah)
I found a lil groove and spot
I don’t follow rules or abide
I live in the booth and the box
But I can do suit and a tie
Regardless of hoopin or not (shit)
Imma be shooting my shot
Wondering who can deny
I just want the loot and the power
I just want loot (yeah)
Got nothing to lose
A Shooter gone shoot
The f*ck you gon do (yeah)
We Plottin on food
Till money on cool
And tummy on full (yeah)
Was a funny young bull
Now she wanna young bull
And she wanna come through (yeah)
Man it always Come full
Man they always come
(What the F*ck they gon do)

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Written by: Pierce Ripanti

Lyrics © DistroKid

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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    "Fresh Out the Barber Chair Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/3662040/Pierce+Ripanti/Fresh+Out+the+Barber+Chair>.

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