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Pots And Pans
Rick Ross
This whudd I'm talkin' bout right here
Ross
Just make da shit work a while, my nigga
Triple C's
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
What started as a nickel rock
Took 22 months, now I'm trynna get a block
Fuck football, I'm goin' down another path
Couldn't pass the test, to tell da truth
I couldn't fuck with math
I did get a shcolaship, but I blew that
Got high, got a ticket and I flew back
To the hell zone, most straps stand 20 shell toes
Get life on ya cell phone
Quarter ki box of soda, Ross whip that
Career criminal fo' sho', Ross with that
Had to pull my pants up, go and get 'em brands up
Daddy died from cancer, I neva had the chance to
Tell him all my plans to, let em' fuck a danca
Smokin' weed in Amsterdam with his grandson
Why he passed on me, my last homie
I went and bought a bird
I want some cash homie
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
I neva rode a nigga coat tail
Made her took a dope sell
Fuck it nigga, o wells
Smokin' on dat classified
Rollin' in dat Lac' of mine
Know my mind stay numb to da world half da time
Thinkin' bout Land Rover, damn near was fucked up
Found him in da trunk with anotha dude, fucked up
Da world fucked up, dat's why I'm fucked up
Don't git fucked up, fuck with me - you fucked up
Bitch I'mma ride (Ride), bitch I'mma die (Die)
When I holla 3-0-5, bitch - dat's on my life
Got a 40 in da car, a choppa in da crib
The grenades down da street, you gotta git it how you live (Triple C's)
I know niggas turn 1 into 2 and they do what they do
And boi 'em thangs move
Fishscale git da big mail
In da room full of work
In case they came when they inhale
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
It's time fo' me to cash in, laughin'
Like Martin in Aston, Martin
When I park it, I can see ya bitch heart-beat
So roll out da red carpet, roll up da purple shit
Black navigator flew
Gotta shut ya fuckin' mouth, don't ever take da smooth
Thinkin' of a greata way, to build a greata flow
I hope she got some great head, dat's how I grade a ho'
White Beamer in da hood shinin' like a star
Look this half a ki go to da club and I'mma buy da bar
Do it twice a week fuckin' bitches on da otha nites
Promise E-class we'll neva miss anotha fight
Hundred in da bag 5 birds I'mma grab
Turn em' into 8, keep me a clean half
Bakin soda in da work works wonderful
You see ya dreams come true cuz I'm da Truth
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
compositores: JEAN MAX BORGES, WILLIAM LEONARD ROBERTS
Você é fã de Rick Ross? Gosta da letra da música?
Compartilhe com seus amigos.
Ross
Just make da shit work a while, my nigga
Triple C's
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
What started as a nickel rock
Took 22 months, now I'm trynna get a block
Fuck football, I'm goin' down another path
Couldn't pass the test, to tell da truth
I couldn't fuck with math
I did get a shcolaship, but I blew that
Got high, got a ticket and I flew back
To the hell zone, most straps stand 20 shell toes
Get life on ya cell phone
Quarter ki box of soda, Ross whip that
Career criminal fo' sho', Ross with that
Had to pull my pants up, go and get 'em brands up
Daddy died from cancer, I neva had the chance to
Tell him all my plans to, let em' fuck a danca
Smokin' weed in Amsterdam with his grandson
Why he passed on me, my last homie
I went and bought a bird
I want some cash homie
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
I neva rode a nigga coat tail
Made her took a dope sell
Fuck it nigga, o wells
Smokin' on dat classified
Rollin' in dat Lac' of mine
Know my mind stay numb to da world half da time
Thinkin' bout Land Rover, damn near was fucked up
Found him in da trunk with anotha dude, fucked up
Da world fucked up, dat's why I'm fucked up
Don't git fucked up, fuck with me - you fucked up
Bitch I'mma ride (Ride), bitch I'mma die (Die)
When I holla 3-0-5, bitch - dat's on my life
Got a 40 in da car, a choppa in da crib
The grenades down da street, you gotta git it how you live (Triple C's)
I know niggas turn 1 into 2 and they do what they do
And boi 'em thangs move
Fishscale git da big mail
In da room full of work
In case they came when they inhale
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
It's time fo' me to cash in, laughin'
Like Martin in Aston, Martin
When I park it, I can see ya bitch heart-beat
So roll out da red carpet, roll up da purple shit
Black navigator flew
Gotta shut ya fuckin' mouth, don't ever take da smooth
Thinkin' of a greata way, to build a greata flow
I hope she got some great head, dat's how I grade a ho'
White Beamer in da hood shinin' like a star
Look this half a ki go to da club and I'mma buy da bar
Do it twice a week fuckin' bitches on da otha nites
Promise E-class we'll neva miss anotha fight
Hundred in da bag 5 birds I'mma grab
Turn em' into 8, keep me a clean half
Bakin soda in da work works wonderful
You see ya dreams come true cuz I'm da Truth
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
All I need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
Lil' ice up what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
Fuck dat I'm gettin' outta hood
compositores: JEAN MAX BORGES, WILLIAM LEONARD ROBERTS
Você é fã de Rick Ross? Gosta da letra da música?
Compartilhe com seus amigos.
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