Clipping. - Summertime (feat. King T) lyrics
clipping. [Daveed Diggs, William Hutson, Jonathan Snipes] LA, CA. U.S. 🇺🇸
[Clipping. - Summertime feat. King T lyrics]
No ceilings they pitchin' that Helen Mirren
It's summer, that pot stick (pot stick)
Block burning, G's banging on
The beach, white Ts, no-sock shit
Palm tree on lean, bass rocks with the knock
Every cockpit bumpin' that Pac on
The stock system rattlin'
But battle-ready cuzzo got the heavy metal
Tucked to haggle for the Fendi watches
Watch it, everyone observe the color
Of the block where they walkin'
Watch how they walkin'
See her at the payphone code talkin'
She got them high shorts, thighs thick
Pussy poppin' so the lay of the block
Maintain, as long everybody play they role
And not try to step on somebody else's line
But when they do
The critic quick to put a clip in a nine
A motherfucker will die in the summertime
Low-lows clown on they pogo bounce
When they slow-mo round
Make the hoes go down
Homies smoke that loud 'til they choke
Fall out and they run they mouth
What they don't know might end 'em
'Cause them women so fine in the summertime
Turn a six to a dime in the summertime
Motherfuckers still die in the summertime
It happens all the time in the summertime
Hold the liquor, it's a avalanche comin'
A Cali nigga flooded in
Ice and quite stunnin'
And who wouldn't believe the
West Coast brung 'em?
When the rest start runnin' when
My set start gunnin'
I came to represent for the Likwit Empire
Tha Liks, Esquire, with about six priors
It's been a minute since I
Lit a nigga on fire and I won't stop rockin'
'til your nigga expire
I uh gut the mic with the negative hype
Any steelo or fashion, I'm a negative type
Write whatever you like
Starts day into night
Paragraphin', how you have it
I be crashin' your sight
As a treat, I'll eat all beef and gripes
Toss up you niggas tryna peel my stripes
Killas don't fright, but, hold up
Here's the truth summer turn cold when the
Crown hit's the booth, nigga
Low-lows clown on they pogo bounce
When they slow-mo 'round
Make the hoes go down
Homies smoke that loud 'til they choke
Fall out and they run they mouth
What they don't know might end 'em
'Cause them women so fine in the summertime
Turn a six to a dime in the summertime
Motherfuckers still die in the summertime
It happens all the time in the summertime
Dice game, rice rocket, pipe laying
Sidewalkin' ides drinkin', wine talkin'
"Where that Fernet, though?" (Right?)
Price payin', eye sockets, dry makin'
Fire-lockin'
Flypaper, skyrockets, scare residentials
Donuts in the cul-de-sac
Photos at the intersection show
'em knock Coronas back
Flipping off the pigs and breaking
Mirrors 'cause he own it, jack
And he on about half a pill
And he don't wanna yack
So he keep it rollin' like that dice game
Homies talk shit, andrew Dice Clay
Homies take shifts watching
Vice playing nice, like they ain't narcs
Roll a seven guns spark, dogs bark
Dial nine-eleven cars parked, ring alarms
Homies stop bettin', just for a second
Then start it up again like resurrection
They count their blessings
Stop rubberneckin'
You lookin' sweeter than confection
Pause laugh it off or get a weapon
Low-lows clown on they pogo bounce
When they slow-mo round
Make the hoes go down
Homies smoke that loud 'til they choke
Fall out and they run they mouth
What they don't know might end 'em
'Cause them women so fine in the summertime
Turn a six to a dime in the summertime
Motherfuckers still die in the summertime
It happens all the time in the summertime