Текст пісні Fuck a Hook - Peezy

Fuck a Hook

Yeah\nNumber one Ghetto Boy in this bitch, nigga\nHaha\nYou already know what’s happenin' with me, my nigga\nYeah\nBroke ass niggas ain’t never had watches or chains on, cars are real\nYou already know how we comin', nigga, young rich nigga for real\nUh\nUh\nLet’s get it, ayy, ayy, ayy\nFresh as hell at crib for no fuckin' reason (Yeah)\nFresh as hell at the crib but I ain’t fuckin' leavin' (I'm just chillin')\nNine hundred dollar shirt, two-thousand dollar sneakers (Yeah)\nBe careful how you run up on me, boy, I run with demons (Real demons)\nTwenty thou' on me, ain’t tryna hurt nothin' (I ain’t tryna hurt nothin')\nTold that bitch shoot out of town, she got a purse comin' (She got a purse\ncomin')\nAll that kids scream Bingo when that 'Vert comin'\nNiggas know they play with me, they got a hearse comin' (Bah, bah, bah)\nTwenty thousand on my neck, thirty thousand on my wrist (Yeah)\nPockets filled up with strips, bitch, twerk somethin' (Twerk somethin')\nF&N with blue tips, Glock 40 with a dick\nTry reachin' for this shit, you gon' get hurt, bum (Bum ass nigga)\nYou know I can’t do no song with niggas if they told (Niggas rats)\nI don’t wear no fuckin' buffs no more, them bitches old (Them bitches old)\nAll these bands got me saggin', I can’t fit my clothes (Yeah)\nSay you want you a new ass, bitch, come hit the road (Let's hit the road, bitch)\nGot the world screamin' fuck you, that’s my new shit (Nigga, fuck you)\nThirty on this rose gold, that’s my new kit\nHeard them niggas snatch your chain and you ain’t do shit\nThey don’t try that shit with us 'cause we done blew shit ('Cause we done blew\nshit)\nNew Amiri jeans, I can’t even fit 'em (Can't even fit in these bitches)\nI don’t buy them bitches, shit, if I can’t hit 'em (Nigga)\nI don’t even want the dope if I can’t hit it (Fuck nah)\nI ain’t givin' daps, don’t call me bro 'cause you is not my nigga\nBitch seen all this ice on me, she say he can get it\nWe’ll turn off niggas' lights and make him come up missin' (Flraah)\nThousand beans in one night, that’s how you come up, nigga (Run it up)\nYou gon' get carried off the scene if you run up, nigga\nGucci shirt and belt, I’m like fuck the sneakers\nFilled the trunk full of pounds, I’m like fuck the speakers\nI don’t want you bums around, I don’t fuck with leeches\nI don’t even go to church 'cause I don’t trust the preacher (Nigga)\nDid a tape by myself, I’m like fuck a feature\nDropped out of school in the 12th, I’m like fuck the teacher\nNeed a blanket on my wrist, my shit fuckin' freezin' (Brr)\nPuttin' Freon in the Benz, your shit overheatin' (Ha)\nNiggas stayin' with they birds, talkin' 'bout they movin' birds\nI’m just lookin', like, oh, word, shit ain’t addin' up\nI sold rocks on the curb then moved out to the Birds\nAll these diamonds on my shirt, nigga, add me up\nFlexin' on these niggas, got 'em mad as fuck (Niggas hurtin')\nTalkin' 'bout so much flexin', they wanna tie me up (They wanna kidnap me)\nWord through the grapevine, you wanna line me up\nWord through the grapevine, they wanna sign me, huh? (Huh)\nWord through the grapevine, we got some money 'round (Real cheese)\nAin’t talkin' 'bout no petty shit, a couple hundred thousand (Real cheese)\nBoy, you know the stashe protected with a hundred rounds (Fact)\nWe’ll turn your mama crib into a haunted house\nBetter come and get this shit because we runnin' out (Hurry up)\nBetter come and get this shit, I got one more pound (Almost over)\nYou ain’t really gettin' chips, you just run your mouth (Shut the fuck up)\nSippin' drank like it’s a fifth, pour me one more ounce (Yeah)