lirik lagu ft devin the dude killa kyleon starlito propain freddie gibbs - rollin (ft. devin the dude, killa kyleon, starlito & propain) - freddie gibbs
[verse 1]
i ain’t hit that p-ssy in a minute
but b-tch, i’m right back in it, and i’m
thuggin’, f-ck that flavored vodka, i’m smokin’ somethin’
hopped out my ‘lac in the ‘jects and i left my motor runnin’
my ghetto valley, my geeker, he keep my stash spotless
and i hid my work in my speakers, i know the task watching
b-tch, i’ll put the town to rest, drop a hundred pounds and jet
they could be pimpin’ this pimp
but yo, i’m still ducking them alphabets
fbi, dea, stay on my d-i-c-k
probably gon’ die a dealer, n-gg- been hustlin’ dope since ’98
banged in a gang since ’95, these rappin’–ss n-gg-s ain’t no riders
all we worship is them dollars, dollars where i reside, yeah
[hook]
i’m just rollin’ – really good weed i’m blowin’
with my music holdin’, make a n-gg- feel like flowin’
when you stop feelin’ the cold wind – fifteen minutes of showbiz
and i ain’t trippin’ ’bout where my hoe is
b-tches gon’ keep b-tchin’ and these hoes they gon’ to roll the ‘dro up
[verse 2]
pocket full of money and i still feel broke
syrup in my sprite, my n-gg-s still sell c-ke
i poured my heart in a song, but in this letter i wrote
i used discretion and codes, never say never but you never know
down, bad, blowin’ good, smoke an ounce a session
used to stretch – just hired an accountant
to help me count my blessings
still hate it when a weak man stop me and leave me stressin’
i be like “give me a second†just like a reelection
dude smoke that presidential, my b-tch f-cked, livin’ to do
chop up this pimpin’ with her, and as you can guess, she gets screwed
can’t kick it like i kick it, like your shoelaces missing
probably harvey dent’s mistress you two-faced b-tches
[hook]
[verse 3]
dance back of that ’93 – double cups of that henry wade
vogues wrap my 84s, b-tter seats on my vertebrae
candy paint on my doors, b-tch – wood wheel what i hold, b-tch
shotgun my new boo, but your new boo is my old b-tch
day-day on my cold wrist, that’s time’s square on my arm, hoe
yellow stones, i talk money, my teeth shine when i yawn, hoe
y’all broke n-gg-s so boring, bro – fly n-gg-s stay soarin’, hoe
leanin’ good on that purple rain, my cup empty, i’m pourin’ more
it’s just a texas thang – ball like them jacksons, mane
flosser, i run it – like floss or boss-up, you understand?
still in it, pitchin’ underhand
but i got the upper, i’m paper touchin’ them f-ckin’ bands
[hook]
[verse 4]
come heat the alp’ with me – candy-coated, yeah that’s loud, pretty
the sh-t i’m smokin’ got me so high i could tail piggy
gun c-cked, my trunk knock, girl, i jump out
wetter than a jumpshot, true clique alumni
well not actually, i’m a little too young, but i’m ‘posed to have been it
askin’ me? you ever heard of big d? well, i’m the ghost of him
my rap’s elite, pull over, crash the beat like drivin’ on c-ke and hen
i’m stackin’ cheese, no limit like master p, slow motion like soulja slim
gotta get it ’cause we itchin’
rappin’ in a language, only trill can comprehend it
violate us, guns we liftin’, young n-gg- out here beastin’
’bout to bring my corner back like real reefers, what’s up?
[hook]
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