Big Mouse - Tha Carter (feat. El Plaga Da Plugg)

All of my guns got clips, you can just call it a movie
Bad bitch and her ass phat, Pussy poppin like a uzi
Trap jumpin' like the carter, Keep the white call me Pookie
Im the Nino for the hood, New jack, like the movie
All of my guns got clips, you can just call it a movie
Bad bitch and her ass phat, Pussy poppin like a uzi
Trap jumpin' like the carter, Keep the white call me Pookie
Im the Nino for the hood, New jack, like the movie
Trap jumpin like the carter
Move the dope and the coke
Bitch leep feinin for te shit
Fucked a bitch for the dope
Move the work out the apartments
Feds blitzing on the low
Got the plug on my line
He got the deals so it sold
Pack up the work in a glad bag
Dropping them bombs like its Baghdad
Foul on the play like a referee
Better think twice before robbing me
Keep the glock with a stick
Always hit never miss
Got the beam for the extra
Red dot, imma bless you
Fucking with me its a homicide
Call up the uber i'm down to ride
Either he with it or suicide
Shoot your ass like was left eye
All of the money i need it
Tell the lil bitch go and get it
Either we fuck or you with it
Either you get it or get it
All of my guns got clips, you can just call it a movie
Bad bitch and her ass phat, Pussy poppin like a uzi
Trap jumpin' like the carter, Keep the white call me Pookie
Im the Nino for the hood, New jack, like the movie
All of my guns got clips, you can just call it a movie
Bad bitch and her ass phat, Pussy poppin like a uzi
Trap jumpin' like the carter, Keep the white call me Pookie
Im the Nino for the hood, New jack, like the movie
Pop on the block like i'm Houdini
John Cena, you niggas cant see me
Got water, ain't talkin no fiji
From 2-5, yea imma meezy
Don't come through thinkin its breezy
Fuck around, might not be leaving
One shot, your hairline receiving
What nigga you know wanna see me
Run down on your ass like a mobster
Pull up, we smelling like ganja
All dreads mane i think i'm a rasta
Only official niggas oon my roster
Im in the kitchen like i'm cookin' pasta
Whippin' the wrist, think its the carter
Line your ass up, jus like the barber
None of you niggas, you do not want nada
Send more bullets then Brett Farve
Want beef, wont make it far
My niggas keep they glicks up to par
Real hungry and they not gnna starve
Fuck what they sayn i got it for cheaper
Bussin it down, we smoking refer
Bitch want a hit then she catchin a feature
Face in my lap, while i drive this 2-seater

Written by:
Marquis Keys, Timothy Rollins

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find