Nash, Hall - Hall & Nash 2 lyrics
[Nash, Hall - Hall & Nash 2 lyrics]
Yo living the dope dealers dream
Prison was sweet my niggas
Ran the whole thing
Up in B block, I had the knife in my greens
Visions of a kilo whipping in my dreams
I let my cooker whip, I watch the shit expand
Sit it on the table
Let it dry under the ceiling fan
Every 30 grand got us another thousand grams
Turned coke to oil in the frying pan
The iron blam
I give the workers the package, they push it
Move the shit just as fast as we cook it
He had a sack, so we took it
A hundred thou on with jewels up in bookin'
Fly nigga had all the CO bitches lookin'
Ayo we so prolific, we sold them fishes
Balmain Moto britches
Rollies on the wrists-es
We the most consistent the most exquisite
Put my hand on a thousand Qurans
Versace trunks on at the palms, ayo
Bet a thousand on red
Owe a dollar, you're dead
I can hollow your head or
Shoot your momma instead
Smoke a blunt of sour soon as
I get out of the bed
Took my whoa' to Neiman
They just released him outta the Feds
You dead, twirling the pot
Got the raw coke dancin'
The work white on white like Pope Francis
Black on black Lamb i call that bitch Lupita
Plug said he can't take no losses
I told his ass, "Me neither"
2k for my sneakers 20 for a feature
Seen niggas make brick money
Off of fucking reefer
Fed boxes to my ceiling
Guy Fisher money from the dealings
I pray every day for a mean run
I pray every day for a mean run
I pray every day for a mean run
I pray every day for a mean run
Motherfucker, we count it up by hand, nigga
(ha ha) griselda, nigga
What? Westside Gunn, nigga
Conway the Machine, nigga
Know what it is, fuckboy
Duct tape and plastic for you fuck-niggas
Got room in the trunk for
A few of you niggas, too
Prison was sweet my niggas
Ran the whole thing
Up in B block, I had the knife in my greens
Visions of a kilo whipping in my dreams
I let my cooker whip, I watch the shit expand
Sit it on the table
Let it dry under the ceiling fan
Every 30 grand got us another thousand grams
Turned coke to oil in the frying pan
The iron blam
I give the workers the package, they push it
Move the shit just as fast as we cook it
He had a sack, so we took it
A hundred thou on with jewels up in bookin'
Fly nigga had all the CO bitches lookin'
Ayo we so prolific, we sold them fishes
Balmain Moto britches
Rollies on the wrists-es
We the most consistent the most exquisite
Put my hand on a thousand Qurans
Versace trunks on at the palms, ayo
Bet a thousand on red
Owe a dollar, you're dead
I can hollow your head or
Shoot your momma instead
Smoke a blunt of sour soon as
I get out of the bed
Took my whoa' to Neiman
They just released him outta the Feds
You dead, twirling the pot
Got the raw coke dancin'
The work white on white like Pope Francis
Black on black Lamb i call that bitch Lupita
Plug said he can't take no losses
I told his ass, "Me neither"
2k for my sneakers 20 for a feature
Seen niggas make brick money
Off of fucking reefer
Fed boxes to my ceiling
Guy Fisher money from the dealings
I pray every day for a mean run
I pray every day for a mean run
I pray every day for a mean run
I pray every day for a mean run
Motherfucker, we count it up by hand, nigga
(ha ha) griselda, nigga
What? Westside Gunn, nigga
Conway the Machine, nigga
Know what it is, fuckboy
Duct tape and plastic for you fuck-niggas
Got room in the trunk for
A few of you niggas, too