Fligga - Child of the Ghetto

Yeah, Fligga!,
Uh, rest in peace to the fallen soldiers,
Too much bakin soda left a crazy odor,
With this drive you gotta change your rotors,
And by the end of the night you better
Make your quota

Check it, with these gold chains on
They got me half stepping, I put my bitch a diamond cross
And told her count her blessings,
With a black mink just to compliment it,

I say whoooo!!, like Ric Flair staring at her ears,
Credit moving now we car shopping
They throwing shots like we bar hopping,
I caught it, my next whip look like a flying saucer,
They think I'm just talking, the new Benz seats they made them softer,

I'm at Hotel Julian with hooligans,
They heard I'm getting branded trying to do me in,
Pause,
These bars I gotta shake the town,
That's why they hating now,
You got the air let me create the sound

They saying I should dumb it down,
Nigga dumb it down for what,
Yeah you can ball but you ain't make the cut,
I'm getting bread I hope they make enough,
This chain they got to save enough,
It's too much ice you gotta scrape it up,

Child in the ghetto, they be lost so they settle,
14 years old with the metal,
A lot of home invasions, they be looking like
Where the money at,
But they don't know felonies come with that,

Child in the ghetto, they be lost so they settle,
14 years old with the metal,
A lot of home invasions, they be looking like
Where the money at,
But they don't know felonies come with that,

Make the wrong move they gonna spy on your block,
And that grip got more rounds than a tiger shot
My new name should be cop a lot,
But why y'all niggas calling cops a lot, check it,

I come around, niggas bring them drums around,
They look like Del State marching band,
Me and the plugs they be shaking hands,
I told them that I missed the trap,

He said taking care of family is where it's at,
And for that there you deserve a dap,
The new shit is cops turning
Fiends to rats, let me stay away,
Getting illegal traps the safest way,
And now you need a dealership with paper plates,

It's Tom Brown suit 1200,
This ain't Adidas track pants
Cause there's lines on it,
Yeah that's ill and you can't even stomach,
And you can have that pussy I don't even want it,
Cause that bitch don't match my budget,

I been swag on for 8 summers,
Plus I pay runners, and they straight gunners,
You want smoke boy then say something,
Cause I can have a shooter outside for 800, flip,

Child in the ghetto, they be lost so they settle,
14 years old with the metal,
A lot of home invasions, they be looking like
Where the money at,
But they don't know felonies come with that,

Child in the ghetto, they be lost so they settle,
14 years old with the metal,
A lot of home invasions, they be looking like
Where the money at,
But they don't know felonies come with that,

Written by:
John Dozier

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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