Pouya, JID - Tip Toe lyrics
Pouya [Kevin Pouya] Miami, Florida, U.S. 🇺🇸
JID [Destin Choice Route] Atlanta, Georgia. U.S. 🇺🇸
[Pouya, JID - Tip Toe lyrics]
Yeah, kamikaze, um, kamikaze, um
Kamikaze caramel covered karma on the
Tip of my taste buds
Tip of the iceberg, tip to the waitress
Tip on your toes mama
Don't trip on that mink rug
That's a lil' mud
Mama don't trip on that pink stuff
That's a lil' pussy baby
Don't trip on that pink stuff
I'm just tryna hit it once
No reason to break up she look at me like
"This nigga don't think when he say stuff"
Fuckin' right
And that's probably the root to my problems
'Member I told you 'bout that time
We almost got shot up
They came from the back of the back
And plot to come rob us
The funny thing with that
Them niggas robbin' the robbers
My homie lost a stack
I lost like forty-one dollars
I said, "Both you niggas wack
And if I see you, inshallah"
He had the gun to my neck
I don't know why he ain't wild out
Brocka-rocka, call my brother like
Them just killed Blocka
But no nada, I quote shottas
Haha, guala in my pocket, bitch, I'm ballin'
Prince Ali Ababwa
Bwoy-bwoy life sucks on the other
End of the blocka
We dodge them shots from the
Other end of the block
It's no end runnin' from niggas and cops
Damn
I been through the worst
I should've been inside that hearse
The mo' I stack my paper tall
The mo' they want me in the dirt
Six feet under, these women make me wonder
Would you still want my number? If
That Rollie wasn't under your budget
I'll never know who really got
The best intentions for me
So I keep my circle tight and I
Got that Glock in my reach
Without a question, see me
Runnin' to the check, no second guesses
Smith and Wesson if they steppin' out of line
(bitch) what's on your mind
Lil' bitch? I ain't got no time for this
Back and forth, mumblin' under your breath
Just tell me what the fuckin' problem is
These problematic bitches always want
The finer things
But you ain't fine enough to
Get your finder's fee
She want to squall, she want
Assault, that's fine with me, finally
Fuckin' hoes I only thought I
See inside my fantasies
That Phantom Ghost inspire me to do the most
That Honda Civic made me hungry
For some foreign motors
Upgraded to the Porsche before
I drank my Folgers
Pour that forty on the soil
For my fallen soldiers
Pour that forty on the soil for my dead hope
Never going back in time
Never gon' be dead broke (Bitch)
Kamikaze caramel covered karma on the
Tip of my taste buds
Tip of the iceberg, tip to the waitress
Tip on your toes mama
Don't trip on that mink rug
That's a lil' mud
Mama don't trip on that pink stuff
That's a lil' pussy baby
Don't trip on that pink stuff
I'm just tryna hit it once
No reason to break up she look at me like
"This nigga don't think when he say stuff"
Fuckin' right
And that's probably the root to my problems
'Member I told you 'bout that time
We almost got shot up
They came from the back of the back
And plot to come rob us
The funny thing with that
Them niggas robbin' the robbers
My homie lost a stack
I lost like forty-one dollars
I said, "Both you niggas wack
And if I see you, inshallah"
He had the gun to my neck
I don't know why he ain't wild out
Brocka-rocka, call my brother like
Them just killed Blocka
But no nada, I quote shottas
Haha, guala in my pocket, bitch, I'm ballin'
Prince Ali Ababwa
Bwoy-bwoy life sucks on the other
End of the blocka
We dodge them shots from the
Other end of the block
It's no end runnin' from niggas and cops
Damn
I been through the worst
I should've been inside that hearse
The mo' I stack my paper tall
The mo' they want me in the dirt
Six feet under, these women make me wonder
Would you still want my number? If
That Rollie wasn't under your budget
I'll never know who really got
The best intentions for me
So I keep my circle tight and I
Got that Glock in my reach
Without a question, see me
Runnin' to the check, no second guesses
Smith and Wesson if they steppin' out of line
(bitch) what's on your mind
Lil' bitch? I ain't got no time for this
Back and forth, mumblin' under your breath
Just tell me what the fuckin' problem is
These problematic bitches always want
The finer things
But you ain't fine enough to
Get your finder's fee
She want to squall, she want
Assault, that's fine with me, finally
Fuckin' hoes I only thought I
See inside my fantasies
That Phantom Ghost inspire me to do the most
That Honda Civic made me hungry
For some foreign motors
Upgraded to the Porsche before
I drank my Folgers
Pour that forty on the soil
For my fallen soldiers
Pour that forty on the soil for my dead hope
Never going back in time
Never gon' be dead broke (Bitch)