Al-Doms - SLANG!

Bitch I’m tryna get
Quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid!
Weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, Slang!
Work that 9-5 but can’t let shit make me a slave
Stuff my pockets till them bitches outta shape!

Quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid!
Weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, Slang!
Work that 9-5 but can’t let shit make me a slave
Stuff my pockets till them bitches outta shape!


Okay, I had a vision I was spillin’ whippin’ Ferraris
Poured cash on my dealer, made him hand me my car keys
Bad baby in my passenger, too old for a car seat
Drop the top over her head
She drops the top where her bra be
'Cuz just yesterday I was stressin' for surely
How this kid from Virginia gon’ get all his glory
And a crib stacked like Bibles man, with all them stories
We just want a full house; Danny, Jesse & Joey
For the twinny twin twins we All-Sin (Olsen) no folding
Coming from a duplex, halfway like parolees
Pushin’ piccolo, breaking down green like we mowing
To buff-a-low out my life and pay them bills like they posed be
My bro keep white in the hood like Kenny McCormick
He sick of livin’ dormant, his kids dreams enormous
Before you get to the Hill-in the cut Neosporin
Gotta appreciate the scar that was formin’


'Cuz Bitch I’m tryna get
Quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid!
Weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, Slang!
Work that 9-5 but can’t let shit make me a slave
Stuff my pockets till them bitches outta shape!

Quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid!
Weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, Slang!
Work that 9-5 but can’t let shit make me a slave
Stuff my pockets till them bitches outta shape!


See I got bigger plans than penitentiary chances
Given circumstance, where most young niggas get plugged into the system like controller panels
Moving grams like nursing homes our only scandal
Hoping a OZ get us down the gold brick road that Dorothy ran thru
Seeking what the world ain’t hand you? Nigga you gotta take that shit!
Taught us all these rules just to realize we had to break that shit
See these the aspirations of a young nigga focused on a flip, Dodging the fait of a young nigga buried by 26
Okay 'cuz I ain’t got a lot, I ain’t had a lot
But I want a lot, and just for that I’ll sacrifice a lot
I just wanna let the money talk until it’s jaw lock
Just to watch the bread flake on em like a croissant
Sheesh!


'Cuz Bitch I’m tryna get
Quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid!
Weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, Slang!
Work that 9-5 but can’t let shit make me a slave
Stuff my pockets till them bitches outta shape!

Quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid!
Weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, Slang!
Work that 9-5 but can’t let shit make me a slave
Stuff my pockets till them bitches outta shape!

Written by:
MICHAEL SMITH

Publisher:
Lyrics © Songtrust Ave, SMITHHOUSE MUSIC PUBLISHING

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find