Lyrics:
Inconsistency is a guideline
While you stuck in a motorcade wasting your time
Unable to move another way
Hope that we'll get there by the end
till da shit broke
Save dem feelings fa dem lame ass simp bros
You know NOV getting bodied by some thick hoes
Need a high chair sittin wit da big bros
'cause she say I make her feel wanted and by the way she never met nobody like me
At the Graft and laugh makin her stare at things
Cutty Cal Grese Chris
Four Seasons for a month, that's me
Pull up on the curb, cleats and hood, gotta be (gotta be, skrr-skrr)
Nigga got some nerve, nigga think that he
lobster and shrimp, you could tell by the hat
Gators and flavors, colors like Now and Laters
Split champagne wishes to bitches, trips to Vegas
Jot down
a minute)
plus your old lady,
ya’ll still pushing Benz’s,
helicopter chopper take me where my friends is,
my taste is so expensive,
when I’m up in Vegas Im
to play me
A quarter million dollars, if I'm in it, I paid it
My watch by Rolex, niggas sayin' I made it
Yeah, I smoke good weed, so these fuck niggas
or eleven, I'ma winner
Pick up the chips, better yet, bitch, pick up the bricks
Tell the valet to bring us the whip
Look at the Vegas lights
I told ya,
Casanova
Supernova
She gone ride me like a roller coaster
Diamonds shining, smokin' by the ocean
You can try & find me
Yeah I thought I told her
You
Priest kissed by the widow spider that spit saliva
I write for lifers and boxers at rikers
I write pain
Blue ink replaced the blood in my veins
Thug in
Legitimately victorious
Like Tori Vega
That's a story 4 later
Right now da flute got ya
So dis how you get da paper
First ignore the haters
If they hating keep
I can tell by the way that she carries herself,
Like a third string quarterback,
That, She don't play 2 much.
She'Z like the Wind so Swift ()
cnd
From Las Vegas to Delaware on down to there
I'm a thousandaire
Mackin' bitches, draggin' em down the strip juss' by they hair
Like "Oh dear!"
Where
six pallets in palaces
Laying out in New York, crush villas in Vegas
Greatest designer wear, son, she sport the latest
So I, pause the smooth talk,
lightweight
We times ten to four, and we bend the rules
They act like they dont know, who the Pro Era crew is?
Who Diamond Lou is, coming for they flesh we
And look everywhere I be I got a mirror wit me
Look I'm feared by many loved by broads
I'm livin' marvelous I'ma superstar (superstar)
(Chorus) 4x
boy cap more than Mitchell and Ness
I just smoked a whole blunt now I need me some sex
I wake up everyday feeling blessed
Not sponsored by Nike but I'm
life
You need a baller, I'm a baller your type
You need a playa, that's what I is fo' life
[Lil' Flip]
24's on the coupe when I roll by, four guns on my
Blue jeans, check! Black T, check!
Record my raps on a cassette tape deck
Wearin' no sweats cause Nike owns Chucks
Three rows of studs cause hoes
Had a stud do the drill now the piglets think that Coup did it
Think im runnin out of bars im just getin started i got like two minutes
Bro just faced
doot)
Tote an AP, you know my wrist go hard (my wrist go hard)
Whip the deuce to a four-way, my wrist go hard (my wrist go hard)
My work crack, just
That go to show this ass
Kicking ain't gon bother nigga
Cause it's right back where
You started nigga
Being a son of a Harlem nigga
Now you was made by
a gambling day
Queen smiled low and blissfully
"Let's make some wretched fool to play"
Plain it was she did agree
He sent his Deuce down to Diamond
His Four
you found me
You deserve more allow me
She independent, with decisions
She ain’t flustered by opinions from another
Shawty bout her bread no Rubin, imma
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