Informazioni sulla canzone In questa pagina puoi trovare il testo della canzone Priceless, artista - LUD FOE. Data di rilascio: 06.09.2018
Limiti di età: 18+
Linguaggio delle canzoni: inglese
Priceless |
| KidWond3r you made this beat? Daang! |
| Aye (Gang, gang, gang, gang) |
| Out west 290 shit bitch, you know how I’m rockin' nigga |
| Straight gang shit, bitch |
| Aye |
| Bitch my rims rub, I’m iced up |
| Fast cars like Midnight Club, wit' nitrous |
| Took my dope up off the clearance rack (the price up) |
| Snuck through the back door of the strip club, I’m piped up |
| Bitch I hang around with drug dealers, and sheisters |
| Got another nigga bitch with me, she priceless |
| Say, «Lud Foe why you do me wrong?», 'cause I’m not richeous |
| Them niggas copy, but they’ll never be… not like us |
| I made a livin' and a killin' off, that white dust |
| I like my bread wit' some cheese on it, and stuffed crust |
| Gave her a shot, that dumb bitch fucked around, Imma stab her |
| These niggas hate to see me comin' they, don’t like us |
| Sadly mistaken if you think that I give two fucks |
| I’m in V.I.P. off ecstasy, wit' two sluts |
| About my fortune cookies, guess what |
| I spent the fortune on my neck, these VVS' |
| drippin' water, got her wet, but I didn’t drench her |
| She say she can’t believe it’s me, somebody pinch her |
| I put that Pyrex in a headlock like a wrestler |
| She want a hundred for some head, but I finessed her |
| Ain’t tryna cuff that hoe, I ain’t finna arrest her |
| Shit on a hoe on purpose, she say I depress her |
| My momma got grey hairs, and she she say I stress her |
| Cops question me, but no I don’t fold under pressure |
| (Ain't have no cat scratch off my eyes now I’m…) |
| Bitch my rims rub, I’m iced up |
| Fast cars like Midnight Club, wit' nitrous |
| Took my dope up off the clearance rack (the price up) |
| Snuck through the back door of the strip club, I’m piped up |
| Bitch I hang around with drug dealers, and sheisters |
| Got another nigga bitch with me, she priceless |
| Say, «Lud Foe why you do me wrong?», 'cause I’m not richeous |
| Them niggas copy, but they’ll never be… not like us |
| I made a livin' and a killin' off, that white dust |
| I like my bread wit' some cheese on it, and stuffed crust |
| Gave her a shot, that dumb bitch fucked around, Imma stab her |
| These niggas hate to see me comin', they don’t like us |
| Fuck wit' me and man you get put on a stretcher |
| We play for keeps, we playin' chess and you play checkers |
| I’m smokin' Bubba Kush, I fill my lungs with cactus |
| And I won’t give a fuck how much you study, don’t test us |
| Ridin' V12 and my window down, and though I’ll catch up |
| And everyday I wake and thank the lord, 'cause he blessed us |
| Plottin' on the sh… I'm plottin' on a Tesla |
| Bitch I’m MC Hammer wit' this hammer, get nailed up |
| Ya got a gun, but you didn’t shoot it once, it’s growing dust |
| I told my jeweler fill my Patek Phillipe, wit' diamonds |
| Every bitch that’s pretty and petite, tryna find us |
| My dick had a fight wit' her pussy cat, now I’m scratched up |
| Yo' bitch like rich niggas, bumped into us, now she snatched up |
| Knock the air out of yo' inner tube, get passed up |
| Use coffee beans to conceal all this paraphernalia |
| If you a junky, then I got some shit to sell ya |
| You should’ve studied your real nigga test, I failed ya |
| Imma check a million before they check me out, for my son |
| gave birth now it is nothing brighter than my son (my son, my son) |
| I met this hoe I told her she was dope, like the crystals in the coke that I |
| sell ya |
| I said, «Look baby, since I think you’re dope, I put you in my envelope and |
| I’ll mail ya» |
| She know that I’m the pimp and she the hoe |
| I put a price on her and sell her |
| I got this bitch here wit' a open nose, she believes everything that I tell her |
| Nigga if you get caught wit' all the shit, whatever you do, just don’t tell |
| them I’m the seller |
| Remember when I touched that white girl, I became a young gettin' money fella |
| Got snow flakes in this white shit, true story it can be much paler |
| These pussy niggas into me |
| They all faggots, man they all Cinderellas |
| Bitch my rims rub, I’m iced up |
| Fast cars like Midnight Club, wit' nitrous |
| Took my dope up off the clearance rack (the price up) |
| Snuck through the back door of the strip club, I’m piped up |
| Bitch I hang around with drug dealers, and sheisters |
| Got another nigga bitch with me, she priceless |
| Say, «Lud Foe why you do me wrong?», 'cause I’m not richeous |
| Them niggas copy, but they’ll never be… not like us |
| I made a livin' and a killin' off, that white dust |
| I like my bread wit' some cheese on it, and stuffed crust |
| Gave her a shot, that dumb bitch fucked around, Imma stab her |
| These niggas hate to see me comin' they, don’t like us |