Drank Sinatra - Chicken George

Now you can check my roots
They call me chicken George
You want a piece of chicken?
I'm a have to tax you for it
4.5 for the quarter
And 9 for the half
A whole thang and you'll get wanged
If you don't know your math
I need to hit these licks
Before the chirping stops
And if you need that fix
Then maybe we can work something out
I'll let you cut my grass
Go ahead and wash my car
And if you still ain't got enough
Maybe you got some bar... Or
A drank prescription
Nigga I ain't tripping
I'll pick you up tomorrow
I'm at the clinic sipping
Flipping chickens
I make them perfect trades
I even work with change
Food stamps and money orders
As long as I get paid
Yeah I remember your face
But I forget your name
You ain't never seen me bitch
I wholesale everything
These hoes tell everything
So I seldom fuk wit niggas
I ain't got no bodyguards
But I know some fucking killers
So don't come fucking with us
Unless you want them skittles
See, I own a candy store
Nah, I ain't no drug dealer
Got that off Harlem nights
I specialize in hardened white
Put the work in a Malbrough lights box
The majority of my customers or white
Ain't that a reversal of fate
Hit me on the hip and I'll meet you at the gate
But I wouldn't have me waiting there long
Take the money out your hand probably hit you in the face
I didn't want to be disrespectful
But hand-to-hand exchange is just too stressful
Risky and so excessive
I'm making chump change
So I think I'll just go ...
And flip some chickens Cuzz ...
Yeah!
I ain't working for Williams Chicken
Popeyes or Timmy Chans
I ain't working no 9 to 5, Nigga!
I'm a need that right now cash
Now that shit might not last
But I'm willing to take a chance
I'm a wait two weeks for paycheck?
Boy get off the gas
Plus I'm a have to walk
So if I'm late then it ain't my fault
And besides Nigga still gettin served
You want Ketchup, pepper or salt?
At least it ain't theft or assault
Robbing muh fuccas tryin not to get caught
Rather smoke a blunt
Than to hit that short
Clothes smellin like work
Tryin to work that clocc
Kunta kenta couldn't run
No blocc
Kizzy took tha cock
And didn't do no trippin
Master taught George everything
That he knew
Now every ni66a in the world tryin to flip these chickens

Written by:
Cornelius Eaglin

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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