Brand New Kicks
Good evening Town folk Country folk City folk Rednecks colors and Spaniards And anything in between [Chorus] Brand new kicks to match my new outfits I still roll wit project chicks And I know I make yall ni**as sick I move crumbs to bricks Too fly rides Wood frame playa leather inside That's dat high definition tv live Check the chain, check the wrist, check the buckle Aye neon, the flyest the freshest the coldest The smoothest to ever to walk this earth and I knows this High dats probably from purple puffin and drumsticks I got enough game to spit this rap through a whole chick It ain't me actin' 'cause see dis homie I'm choosen Wrist all bliss because my watch is all slowed and My life photo shoots see daily I be posin' I hit the club and git it poppin til its closin I take you back in the days bugs bunny j's Low cut fade and them Cartier shades Pimpin' until I'm dead and gone somewhere in the Remember what special ed said I got it made Play games wit me boy you gon need first aid Im bout money you bout trickin' we ain't on the same page A honey grant for a feature fresh lets get paid From head to toe I'm g'd up [Chorus] We doin' big stuff rippin' the grain and big trucks Sippin' champagne with some ducks makin' big bucks Wow! ain't no limit to my bank account Wow! look at this check you see dat amount? My wardrobe go across the globe That's how it is when you release eight million sold That's cool if I go gold 'Cause Ima read fo shows on this punkhold Got the Benz that new range bout to git that bump Plus got some new shit that you ain't never seen All alone Aye don't hate let the playas play Before I hit you wit dat cake [Chorus] I your kicks is crispy and yo fit is spiffy go head If yo cake is jiffy and you richer den richy go head If chick is pretty and you run the city go head If yo pimpin' is strong and yo money is long go head See all those other dude bedroom Smell dat Gucci and me playa Next thing you know they in my bedroom My name speaks for whats up she give me some heads on Rubys all in my charm lookin' like a red moona Head cocked bandana reppin' for the block Gang cocked guess some coward wanna take my spot Law will run away from me I guess I'm that hot Usta be fellen now its co slot-a-lot [Chorus] Yes you know who it is Its yo boy once again ching-a-ling My homeboy Manny Fresh on the track ya digg We gon do this one from the end onto the atl man We gon keep it so fly so fresh and so clean Ya dig what I'm sayin' G I b yeah!
Written by: BYRON O. THOMAS, HOWARD EARL BAILEY
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind