Lyrics:
pie a la mode
I'm gonna need my own zip code
When you're only having seconds
I'm having twenty-thirds
When I go to get my shoes shined
I gotta
one dirty
Always on the drugs
Heard she popping 30's
She popping in her 20's
Washed out by 30
All about her money
Don't listen
But she heard me
You
now
But I still fuck with the big B's
You can catch hot shells
Like hot cakes all day like it’s Mikey D's
Use to ride 'round on them 22's
Walkin' around
meaning
I wonder when I'll wake up
To find I'm dreaming
22 22 22 20
I been in my ways might sip a little Henny
Everybody snoozing West side cruising
I
late
(I can't keep chasing you)
(I'm taking my life back)
Caught in a chase, twenty-five to life
I don't think she understands the sacrifices that
through the 20s and the hunnids
Got them racks blue niggaz always hating cuz we stunting
In the backroom shawty gave me head till I nutted
Like a vacuum
the cold, cold mornings
And I remember the rainy afternoons
When I was dreaming that I was 22
That I was twenty two
I wish I was older when I was young
You can't minimize
I'm always on go
Had to stay out the mix
Just to get in the mix
When I lead by example
It's hard to forget
First year I was all
I'll miss
All the strings get stretched
All the wings get clipped, for the downfall
Switch it up damn my egos gone
In the middle of my 20's it could
Restaurant, there's a picture hanging there
Of a petrified Italian with escargot in his hair
And there's a big, white horse rug lying by the door
And I'm
[Intro]
Yeah
Giyaz mehn!
May 22, mehn
I had a car accident, mehn
Crashed my Benz, mehn
2021, mehn
I’m 22, mehn
Real Life!
[Verse 1]
Hardest nigga in
, but a bitch is two of them
Twenty-two with a 2.2, just came back from a long vacation
By the time that I'm done that's a 2.1, I got redbones and I
cool?" (is it cool)
If you arrive and don't see me
I'm going to be with my baby
I am free, flying in her arms
Over the sea
Stained window, yellow
you cruise
I come in first
I never lose
Could check the press
We made the news
Counting 20’s and 50’s
And hunnids
Blowing smoke up out the coupe
I’m
From the city runs electricity in my brains
From the cars runs gasoline up in my veins
My blood intoxicated by twenty-seven trips
My eyes
vehicle next to us
Cause all of our vehicles, we dress 'em up
With television, Dreamcast, DVDs
Nice sounds, buttons, it's twenties
I'm a Cash Money Hot,
Money from the music biz quicker than trappin ayyyyy
100s and 50s and 20s and 10s and 5s and 1s
I'm stackin it UP
Credit and debit i gotta go get it
I'm
responsibility?
Now I'm holdin' a dub, sittin' on swoll
Twenty-seven years old, up for parole, stroll
I'm back up on my feet with my mind on the money
That
BITCH YOU GONNc GET PEELE
Gangsta Boo:
Call my nigga project pat
Dog i got the ends, I need 20's navigation 500s benz
Real quick can I flip the script
I
a lu-lu-lullaby-by
Got twenty-one grams in my pocket
Got twenty-one grams and I love it
Got a body in the boot of my beat-up coupe
And it's alright
Got twenty-one
the chips
20's for the six
Hollows for the clips
Try me, if you think I'm playing bitch
And the police we'll have another crime scene taker
Jim Star crush
Well I'm a sucker for fine Cuban cigars
The problem is I can't afford 'em
But last year I went and got myself a whole box
And just to be safe I
Run up hundreds, ain't no 20s
SRTs, a brand new Hemi
Oh, that's paper? I get plenty (Uh-huh)
Gettin' green, bitch, I'm healthy
Alias, I'm movin'
And everything that I ride is 22s and up
And everytime that I slide, you know I'm platinum plus
Make the hood understand that we trying to come up
24s on trucks,
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