lirik lagu bic fizzle - all the way up
[intro]
(pull up mingus, we gon’ slide)
(yanabu, what’s good?)
[verse 1]
ayy (ayy), bless the streets, they look at me, i leave ’em somethin’ to follow
from the wicked inside like nardo, duckin’ potholes and the hollows
never breaking gang tie codes, you disrespect, i chase you home
been in the streets for way too long, from burglaries to flippin’ low (what’s good?)
[chorus]
tossin’, turnin’, missin’ sleep, that’s just the cost of love
go all in on artillery, bought a stash for all my thugs
street lights on, i ain’t made it home ’cause i’m too busy sellin’ drugs on the corner with big cuh
guess i was raised to be a thug
’cause what else was i supposеd to be?
i ain’t got sh~t for a n~gga don’t like, bettеr have that bag and the clip of heat
can’t never lack, keep chrome with me
just look in my eyes and you can see that i been tired
clutchin’ my iron like, “would you ride”?
ain’t no response, just shots firin’
[verse 2]
i ain’t been sleeping, i been thinking, ain’t been eating but i ain’t cryin’
it’s a lot been on my mind, too deep in the streets for time
youngin’ throwing up my sign and n~ggas dyin’ for what’s behind that
asked god for a sign, he sent a blood check like, “sign that”
told k!ller, “what’s the business playin’? you gon’ get paid? where your mind at?”
man told me he don’t really want for nothin’, he gon’ steady drill to get where i’m at
rollin’ dope while the time pass, having vison, countin’ fifty
thuggin’ bad with my dog ass, never f~ck with y’all’s ass
i don’t even wanna carry cash, swipe the visa, clear the tab
everything on cruise control, i’m working hard, might grow some abs
i’m in the lab, prefect the craft
i knock the boy down with a jab
since i was young, ain’t f~ck around, they f~ck with me and i burn ’em down (let’s do it, let’s do it)
[chorus]
tossin’, turnin’, missin’ sleep, that’s just the cost of love
go all in on artillery, bought a stash for all my thugs
street lights on, i ain’t made it home ’cause i’m too busy sellin’ drugs on the corner with big cuh
guess i was raised to be a thug
’cause what else was i supposed to be?
i ain’t got sh~t for a n~gga don’t like, better have that bag and the clip of heat
can’t never lack, keep chrome with me
just look in my eyes and you can see that i been tired
clutchin’ my iron like, “would you ride”?
ain’t no response, just shots firin’
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