Chuck Paradi$e - Ricochet

Hoping that I prosper
I been rollin cookies with the grabba
Hater blockers on for the imposters
See fraud all through ya posture
You a small fry jr whopper
I'm Garlic butter legs with the lobster
Catch ya chick choosing Ima draft her to my roster
Now ya baby mine bitch I got her like a foster
If the price is right then my name is Bob Barker
Work in my carry on gettin ready for departure
I ain't got no heart just a handful of spades
So just know when I pull it bullets ain't playin charades
They let me out my cage
I feel like Luda when he had the braids
Like MJ at the Super Bowl when he took off the shades
Amazed
By the bullshit they try to portray
He got champagne dreams with a mind minimum wage
How you think you fuckin with me when you sleep and I'm up
When yo alarm clock ringing I got tea in my cup
When you figure out what to do
Im in the V on the clutch
While you stretching out on ya couch
I'm stepping into a brunch
Sativa Into a blunt
Got got my mind on a mission
Praise God I still follow my father's tradition
This that lotto edition either you hittin or ain't
Don't take too much out the bag
Go put them Chips in the bank
Don't cry bout no spilled milk
I got a cow in the yard
They put that knife in my back
I went and tatted the scars (ugh)
What the fuck these niggas talkin bout
They acting like they don't know (They don't know)
If a nigga in ya way nigga
Ludacris throw dem bows (Throw dem bows)
What the fuck these niggas talkin bout
They acting like they don't know (They don't know)
If a nigga in ya way nigga
Ludacris throw dem bows (Throw dem bows)
What the fuck these niggas talkin bout
They acting like they don't know (They don't know)
If a nigga in ya way nigga
Ludacris throw dem bows (Throw dem bows)

Written by:
T Benifield

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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