lirik lagu dj fela & down south playerz - fat sack
[intro: la chat & womack da omen]
smokin’ on a fat sack, smokin’ on a fat sack
smokin’ on a fat~smokin’~smokin on a fat sack
little chat, little chat, where you at?
in a suburban (smokin’~smokin’ on a fat sack), smokin’ on a fat sack
little chat, little chat, where you at?
in a suburban (smokin’~smokin’ on a fat sack), smokin’ on a fat sack
little chat, little chat, where you at?
in a suburban (smokin’~smokin’ on a fat sack), smokin’ on a fat sacklittle chat, little chat, where you at?
(smokin’~smokin’ on a fat sack)
[verse 1: la chat]
drinkin’ on some alizé, listenin’ to some marvin gaye
finna get f~cked up off some weed, lil’ chat, gotta fulfill my needs
smokin’ on a quarter sack, drinkin’ on a pint of yak
got alotta sh~t that i don’t like, so i gotta get that gat
pass the f~ckin’ papers and the marijuana or some weed
nah mane, f~ck that sh~t, i wanna get f~cked up on some swisher sweets
light that sh~t and take a pull, cloud of smoke up in my brain
gotta have fire that keeps me high, ’cause lil’ chat loves that indo, manе
half on a bag now i can’t go, ’cause i’m always down to want some more
can’t takе a puff, puff of my dope, but i like gettin’ high with my folks
ridin’ through the mound with our windows up, gettin’ buck
gotta keep our smoke, we hot as h~ll, but we don’t give a f~ck
blazin’ up another one soon as we finish with our blunt
gotta keep the roaches, scr~pe them up and turn ’em to a f~ckin’ junt
take the shotgun to my nose, high as h~ll, i can’t compose
n~ggas ain’t prepared to tryna blow my high, then i got some for them hoes
[verse 2: womack da omen]
womack, laid back in a suburban with la chat, never chiefin’ on the reefer but i’m high off contact
got them glocks, and c~cked, then buckin’ b~tches down into the ground and
rollin’ through the f~ckin’ town, and then you know we finna clownin’
hit the street, crunk as f~ck, let them pistols go buck, buck, bang to the brain, ain’t that a d~mn shame?
lame~ass n~gga couldn’t outrun thunder from my shotgun
leave that n~gga, get on down, messed up [?] you [?], boy
[versr 3: la chat]
ridin’ in a suburban, ’cause i gotta urgent finna go get this b~tch that’s flaugin’ and tratin’ and always splurgin’
thug queen ’cause i fiend, n~gga like me gotta have that sh~t
might be a junk to you, but i don’t give a f~ck, i’m chiefin’, b~tch
gotta go to the freezer get my munch on ’cause i’m high as h~ll
grab a fresh~ass cigarette from my mother, gotta hide the smell
now i’m holdin’ out, i’m gettin’ so drunk, i gotta get so crunk
blunt after f~ckin’ blunt and junt after f~ckin’ junt
bl~~dy red is all i see, ’cause my eyes are blurry
hope a b~tch gon’ f~ck sh~t up, so i can get my uzi
hate a b~tch that perpetrate like she always ’bout it, ho
ain’t no need to flauge, b~tch, ’cause la chat is gonna hit that dope
always be a n~gga, broke as h~ll, and always haulin’ it
hurry up, and pass that sh~t on, you lil’ free loadin’~ass b~tch
rollin’ ’bout seven deep, lookin’ for somethin’ that we can creep
‘lotta bud smoker don’t ride with me, ’cause i always gotta chief
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