Lyrics:
the highest clientele
You and you, I give a fuck how the pussy smell
Heads to tails, the bitch bail with limp
With a hell of a limp, see on that gangsta tip
Louis, LV's on 'em
Thinking 'bout that head got my mind blown
In the drop top, had my mind gone
Like minds, think alike, what your mind on?
Play that
under her ass
And breaking lamps from beating pussy purple cause she like it fast
Wha-wha-wha-what's your fantasy? Ass like Trina, face like Beyonce
your opinion
But nobody's understanding you (understanding you)
Standin' ten toes on my own
Like a man would do (like a man would do)
When she pop
hop
Tipping on my tip toes as I toe tip the tip top
See me when I'm soaring, flying with this drip drop
Whip so sick I cant get it out the pit stop
ass hung the fuck up just like a bunch of clothes
Hey ma, we stretch work like you touch your toes
And in the middle of July we got that summer snow
undeserving of the words unspoken
Deliver us from the evil inside
Wait keep your head down
Bound by the demons that hide
Creating fear and cutting all
your bitch off
Saw your lips lock
Rim job fresh on her breath
My kid sauce
She's tip top
How's it taste, motherfucker?
Hard to answer when your soul's
stopped by no ref
Chasin' that bag 'til I'm all out of breath
You would've thought I was Ye on the West
Louis Vuitton on my bulletproof vest
I got good food
Cover your head, cause it's a dead zone, in the red zone
Yeah, this is my home sweet home
Three card molly, another man to fool
Whites will stop
I was mad dip
Butterfly collars and shit
Chains from the slave ship
Dreads with the wave kit
Bifocals and wing-tips
Velvet pants and a velour
from rags to
riches
It's a struggle in this hustle but I'm in it to win it
I know you wanna make it to the tip top
But it's difficult to get it in hip
Wocka Flocka rock
Dressin’ tip top up on your block
Sprayin’ with a Glock
I will never stop
Make a bitch pop
That’s my pop style
Poppin’ up on nice
do, we do what we wanna do
You wan' get shot? Go 'head, run up in my spot
My lawyers'll have me out by one o'clock
Go 'head, get dropped trying
told me, "Do your dirt all by your lonely"
So I go hit them niggas 'fore 50 could even hold me
I'm waiting, anticipating to put a nigga under
Smoking
Something
Pop it
Bitch
Bust it
Open
Whoa
Climb up to the top
Slide down the pole slow
Drop into a split
Stand up
Touch your toes
Make that ass clap
Let me
and know I'm not perfect
But plus I gotta eat what I'm doing it's worth it
So, Lord have mercy
I stay at your head or be at your throat
Better ask your
a fool
Cause I'm takin off from the tip-top of the key
with the rock passed by the Pharoahe M-O-N, see-H
the chosen lyrical soldier who backs me up
when
criminally
I guess it's, I guess it's 'cuz I talk cynically
You better pay your respects, with an additional fee
Swigz
Heavy is the head that the crown must
wings sprouted from the top of his arms, the fire from his mouth set off the smoke alarm
A tail on his bum knocked over a lamp, the tip of his nose turned
wings sprouted from the top of his arms, the fire from his mouth set off the smoke alarm
A tail on his bum knocked over a lamp, the tip of his nose turned
singing my song
Bitch, I'm designer from head to my palm
But bitch, I be lying, it's drip on my toes
And I put on Raf Simmons for my hoes
Don't play with
the Sneak Peek
A tip of the dream, mountain of belief
We will never retreat until we reach our peak
You had your moment, sorry that's over
Flip the script,
To hear real ill beats combinated with rhymes
Brought to you by the person at the T-O-P
That be G-O-D, and I be T-I-P
The promoter of the flyness, witness
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