lirik lagu sweet t – money mission
[intro: j1hunnit]
(thank you, gc)
1hunnit
(oh, stackz, open up, what the f~ck you doin’ in there?)
(yeah, you turnt, pj)
[verse 1: j1hunnit]
i’m in the kitchen goin’ fishin’, dissecting a flounder
yellin’, “geronimo,” divin’ off of the kitchen counter
i been fightin’ for my life, i can parry and counter
big fn on my side for a threatened encounter
ballin’ hard as f~ck, i got ’em yellin’ in the press box
the n~gga said my name wrong, i’m finna slap the announcer
i told her, “act like you somebody,” i’d hate to renounce her
i gave her news she could use, baby callеd me the counselor
unc’ takе his uppers during the week, the weekend for downers
couldn’t get in the club with the tool, i should’ve slapped the bouncer
baby came kinda flat cheeks, doc shaped ’em rounder
i don’t even live here for real, i’m just an out~of~towner
[verse 2: sweet t]
i’m tryna run spoken art like napoleon bonaparte
if you run up on me, i’ll leave you hole~y and blown apart
i keep hoes comin’ in pairs like noah on the arc
i need some skin fair and some skin dark
on i~75 flyin’, whip smellin’ like a skunk
i’m a student of the game, i can never ever flunk
loose lips sink ships, but my team never sunk
they know me all around the city just for talkin’ all that junk
seven~three for a sweet, i leave the crib on a money mission
i put the greatest on their ass like i’m sonny liston
catch me lackin’, that’s like findin’ some funny women
i caught my opp alone, now his squad use the buddy system
[verse 3: j1hunnit]
hmm, and it’s not what you think
laughin’ at these clown~ass n~ggas, desi banks
let me teach you how to walk down on ’em, tyra banks
my b~tch the real supermodel type, but she a sk~nk
i don’t smell nothin’ but ‘za, so i don’t think my sh~t stink
i scream facts every time like jade and big bank
i could swim with the piranhas inside of the fish tank
i know them other n~ggas sellin’ boof, but this dank
[verse 4: sweet t]
my custy ain’t actin’ right, i think that b~tch lost her sanity
i love sayin’ b~tch, so please excuse the profanity
big chop in the trunk, that b~tch can take down a manatee
if you heard i was a ham, that was just a hater’s fantasty
i’ll even spark a ‘wood up at the pearly gates
i get the custies straight, watch the plates, then i skate
that boy wanna go straight, but the needle is his fate
he’s been poppin’ beans and sippin’ lean since he was eight
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