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lirik lagu chicken p & g herbo - peter piper

[intro]
(ajaks, this a banger)

[chorus: chicken p]
i’m like “n~gga, is you cool?”, you don’t make enough (frrt, phew)
i only use the money counter ’cause of paper cuts
it prolly take me like thirty days to make a buck
i’ma drive the coupe today, lil’ brodie take the truck
peter piper packed a pack of pounds and he sealed ’em up
i just cut the pint of pie and i’m pourin’ up
what the f~ck wrong with my neck, this b~tch glowin’ up
front~end, back, back, back, and i’m showin’ up

[verse 1: chicken p]
i’ll spin the front~ends, book all the back~ends, i’ll put ’em up
if you could put more paper in your pockets, they ain’t full enough
gotta drop a lil’ more in your soda, it ain’t dark enough
these lame ass n~ggas get it, pour out they heart to f~ck
all this f~ckin’ water on my neck, look like [?] or what?
it sound like a lion fightin’ every time i start the truck
i don’t think it’d be smart to start with us
big ass 10 milly on me, it’ll park a bus (hmm)
big ass bankroll on me, i can get you touched
baby, i ain’t with the roleplay, is we finna f~ck?
i’m tryna run up a million dollars (a million dollars)
dropped the eight, poured a four and a fanta four in the crush (huh)
i got [?] in my watch, why you get ’em crushed? (huh)
out of b~tter in the pot, like, what you cookin’ up? (huh)
i’m finna hit her raw brick with a brick of cut (huh)
i can get you what you need, now tell me what you wanted
this food right here go in the blender, not in the oven
made thirty~two days in a row, that’s a triple double
if you can get them to my door, i pay you for the troubles
if you can get them to my door, i pay you for the travel
i beat and walked out with a ticket, like a f~ckin’ raffle
all these motherf~ckin’ bricks, i could build a castle
i seen sh~t you thought wouldn’t happen really happen
all these n~ggas really jokes, i sit back and laugh at ’em
you think you could do this sh~t like me, take a stab at it
i’ll put the switch on your ass like your granddaddy
b~tch, i had a quarter brick back when we was wearin’ ballies
i went half on the strike, me and bro, we sharin’ tallies
[chorus: chicken p & g herbo]
i’m like “n~gga, is you cool?”, you don’t make enough
i only use the money counter ’cause of paper cuts
it prolly take me like thirty days to make a buck
i’ma drive the coupe today, lil’ brodie take the truck
peter piper packed a pack of pounds and he sealed ’em up
i just cut the pint of pie and i’m pourin’ up
what the f~ck wrong with my neck, this b~tch glowin’ up
front~end, back, back, back, and i’m showin’ up (ayy, double)

[verse 2: g herbo]
wanna book me? send a hunnid racks, it’s goin’ up (it’s goin’ up)
while fifty in the front, another nick when i pull up (yeah)
rolls truck, bad b~tches jump on d~ck when i pull up (when i pull up)
grab her face, tell her open up, spit [?]
i get vicious when i’m on that tris, sippin’ out the cup
drink tequila on a miss, this lil’ sh~t hit me, tryna f~ck (tryna f~ck)
usually i be chasin’ the bag, won’t even make time for a nut
i told chicken i’m gettin’ this chicken, i count up a ticket, it give me a rush
i make money in my sleep but i be barely catchin’ z’s
n~ggas trollin’ on the ‘net but never gangster when we meet (p~ssy)
i be solo like civilians, half a million last week
lil’ cuz want another b, i told him “let that n~gga breathe”
i was broke sellin’ weed, barely did a stack a week (uh)
now i’m blowin’ six figures every time i pack a seat
’til my n~gga smurk free, i told ’em “give the ‘raq to me”
put me anywhere with gangsters, bet you i adapt with ease
if they got them bills for the low, i’m bringin’ back some p’s
god forbid this rap sh~t get slow, i’m in the trap [?]
got so many tennis chains, i need a racket, please
got so many bracelets, they can’t even wrap my sleeve
got so many bracelets, they can’t even fit my sleeve (uh)
red band on a [?], yeah, that’s how i’m bleedin’
feel like allen iverson, my earrings bling (bling)
ghost my fine sh~t ’cause when she fiend she a demon
every line in a n~gga rhymes, i really seen it
79 and she still mine and i mean it
every angle of my lifestyle i was dreamin’
winnin’ with my team, think you f~ckin’ with us, i’m like
[chorus: chicken p & g herbo]
i’m like “n~gga, is you cool?”, you don’t make enough (swerv)
i only use the money counter ’cause of paper cuts
it prolly take me like thirty days to make a buck
i’ma drive the coupe today, lil’ brodie take the truck
peter piper packed a pack of pounds and he sealed ’em up
i just cut the pint of pie and i’m pourin’ up
what the f~ck wrong with my neck, this b~tch glowin’ up
front~end, back, back, back, and i’m showin’ up (brrt)

- lirik lagu chicken p g herbo

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