B Cozzy - Book It

There ain't no checking me
Been had sauce I'm apart of that recipe
Being a man is some shit that i had to be
Had no choice but to go if i stop what my brothers going think of me
Everything that i do is apart of this
Cant be stuck in the pit i'm to all for this
This ain't luck it's a gift i was chose for this
Bra going kill if he keep going through this shit
Alive in a Phantom we dodging collision
Bra not going hit'm 3 grams ina blunt
We goin' keep blowing nigga
This weight on my shoulder goin' keep getting bigger
I was stuck in the bed with some medicine in me
If you wanted to end me just pick up the pistol
Ima get right with you
Ima grown man yall niggas sip out the nipple
Baby you bitches and bake you a cookie
Getting my money together just come on and book me
Crying on the gram cause them real niggas took it
My man not a tranny just seeing shit crooked
We jumping the fence now them boys gotta book it
Inside with the chefs where i learned how to cook it
Put five in your face we going clear out the place
pour fours every day we going sip it away
Three licks round the way we going creep off the late
Two bad bitches bouta pound they cake
Ima beat up the tiger she calling me great
Paint on her face gotta frost that flake
No Leo da Vinci im Cozzy Givenchy
If i know that you with me you coming out spiffy
Opp over there get aggressive real quickly
I'm sick as a fever don't mean you gotta tempt me
Riding round fish bowl ten percent tent me
Friday the 13th Micheal Myer you niggas
Mm mm mm
Get up lil nigga
Mm mm mm
Why you spit up lil nigga
Haha pick your shit up lil nigga
Stepping on necks in my sleep with my slippers
Cozzy is coming prepare for a blizzard
Cooler than before it was just for the winter
Once i end all you niggas it's just the beginning
Ain't no man in the middle
I sent out that pigeon
If you look in the mail know a letter was in it
We going keep blowing nigga
This weight on my shoulder going keep getting bigger
I was stuck in the bed with some medicine in me
If you wanted to end me just pick up the pistol
Ima get right with you
Ima grown man yall niggas sip out the nipple
Baby you bitches and bake you a cookie
Getting my money together just come on and book me
Crying on the gram cause them real niggas took it

Written by:
Brian Gordon

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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