Project Pat, Key Glock, Young Dolph - CheezNDope lyrics

[Project Pat, Key Glock, Young Dolph - CheezNDope lyrics]

808 Mafia yK

I got cheese, dope, and a fuckin' bad bitch
(Woo) i got pills, weed
And a Draco with some clips (Woo)
I'ma empty every round
Then I'm reloadin' the clip
Caught your gal out here thottin'
Fucked on that lil' bitch

Memphis niggas country niggas
And we want all the smoke (Uh, huh)
Fuck with Hector and Gomez, man
We sell all the dope (Uh, huh)
Call my lawyer Eric Morgan if I do get caught
(O oh) the best lawyer in the world
He gon' get the charges dropped
I got dawgs, they not strays
Gold teeth, I got braids
Money train, niggas on they hustle
We tryna get paid (Ching ching)
Pistol grip, 40 on the hip
Shootin' out the muzzle (Bang)
Throw your gang sign in the air
If you know 'bout the struggle
Money blue like cuzzo
Pull that strap like uh oh
I'ma shoot like for sure try me a no no
All my niggas on go-go fuck 12, fuck po-po
One in the dome from Draco
Head in pieces like puzzle (Ooh, ooh)

I got cheese, hoes
And a bunch of fuckin' dope
I got P's, coke, and some killers at the door
Hydro weed smoke, and a quarter-ounce of blow
What you need, bro, is to fuck with your boy

Ayy
Slidin' down 240, then got off on Airways
(Trap) headed to the hood with
Whole things for sale, man
(Trap)
You want a P or a motherfuckin' bale, man?
(Trap) when you pass that corner store
Just make a left, man
(Trap) i'm on Bowen Street
(Trap) , eighty P's a week (Trap)
Niggas runnin' in and out
That's how you know it's me (Trap)
Burglar bars on every window on the house
(Ayy, who that right there?)
Ain't nothing in here but a scale and a couch
(yeah, yeah)
Narcotics ridin' down the street, oh shit
(Goddamn) i grabbed the money
Went and threw it over the fence
(Throw it next door)
Too much money, this shit got me paranoid
(yeah, yeah) these niggas dummies, man
Don't make me send them boys

Yeah south Memphis youngin'
You know how I'm comin' (Glizzock)
I been gettin' money
Turn nothin' into somethin' (yeah)
Phone line jumpin'
(Brrt) , they booking' me constantly (Okay)
'Cause this young nigga hotter
Than a fuckin' oven (Hot, hot)
Chillin' with your auntie
(Ayy) , smokin' on some onion (yeah)
Her ass fat like an onion
(yeah) , head bomb, atomic (Woah)
Ridin' 'round town in a brand new foreign
(Skrrt)
Then I got bored, put some Forgiatos on it
(yeah) i be Gucci'd down
But I'm still wearing Jordans (yeah)
I be iced out, bitch, my neck cost a fortune
(yeah) i be ballin' out
I just came back from tourin' (yeah)
And linked up with Pat 'cause he
Say he got some more

I got cheese, hoes
And a bunch of fuckin' dope
I got P's, coke, and some killers at the door
Hydro weed smoke, and a quarter-ounce of blow
What you need, bro, is to fuck with your boy

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