Stoney Willis, Earl Sweatshirt - Nu Stogie lyrics
[Stoney Willis, Earl Sweatshirt - Nu Stogie lyrics]
Yuh, yuh, yuh, yuh, yuh, yuh
Shit, you wanna hand me that fucking lighter?
(Ight) no? Whatever (yeah, yeah, yeah) no?
Alright
Uh (Bah) , I am the shooter reloaded (Bah)
Who only move with the motive to kill it
(Ayy) music is coca
Know that I roast it and flip it
It's nothing
Sniffling hoes accustomed to dick
In they throat
I bust on the tip of they noses
(Ya need a napkin or something?)
Just use this stack of this money (Okay)
I only laugh cause it's funny (Uh, huh)
Whip an ass and rap with laxative tummy, shit
And I need that wall plastered with them
Plaques and that cash in abundance
(Ayy, ayy)
Catch me on 'Fax with a couple cancer sticks
Hit me for cold and passionate loving ho
Only khakis I'm cuffing
Little man with no manners
Bitch I am actually dusty
Action Los Angeles
Them bastards pack them Pacquiao punches
Pressed on your back for your bluffing
Let's take it back to the ruckus, bitch
Tell momma that her son on a mission
And I ain't seen the motherfucking
Sun in a minute
Gunning with that trouble in that
Come with the quickness
Say it's one for the money, nigga
Run for your riches, nigga
Tell my momma that her son get it, get it
I'ma crunch niggas, getting money
Blunts in the Civic, without
Fuck how you feeling, nigga
(Fuck nigga, fuck how you feeling, nigga)
Nigga, give a fuck how you feeling, nigga
Fuck with a nigga, nigga
I am the soulless who coldest
Creaks in the winter
Rolling splinter deep and itching for
Bitches' dentals to denim
Then puffing loud and come in Fallon
Believe that Tec is offensive
You need a vest when you snitching
In Adidas sweat, I'ma kill 'em all (All)
That pussy wet
Raining cats and doggies up out of her
I reach into the register
Take the paper up out of it
Hate the fake and the talkative
Shake and bake, I'm the opposite
Frosted Flakes and a pot of grit's
Percolating that breakfast
I'm dropping cake on a necklace
Spitting like a nigga just took
A piss in my beverage
That Swisher sit on the dresser, split
Fingers twisting
Decking and standing shit where
The peasants sit mouse with the weapons
They come to fuck off your cheddar, bitch
Tell momma that her son on a mission
And I ain't seen the motherfucking
Sun in a minute
Gunning with that trouble in that
Come with the quickness
Say it's one for the money, nigga
Run for your riches, nigga
Tell my momma that her son get it, get it
I'ma crunch niggas, getting money
Blunts in the Civic, without
Fuck how you feeling, nigga (Nigga)
Nigga, give a fuck how you feeling, nigga
Fuck with a nigga, nigga
Don't be so much confusion does you feel me?
It can hold you back
Yeah, I can't fuck with you
I'm just tryna get this money
(Tryna get this money)
Niggas talking about some bullshit uh
What'd I say? Get away from me
I don't need that anymore it's money
The more you know
I can't fuck with you niggas, nigga
It's money (It's money, it's money)
Shit, you wanna hand me that fucking lighter?
(Ight) no? Whatever (yeah, yeah, yeah) no?
Alright
Uh (Bah) , I am the shooter reloaded (Bah)
Who only move with the motive to kill it
(Ayy) music is coca
Know that I roast it and flip it
It's nothing
Sniffling hoes accustomed to dick
In they throat
I bust on the tip of they noses
(Ya need a napkin or something?)
Just use this stack of this money (Okay)
I only laugh cause it's funny (Uh, huh)
Whip an ass and rap with laxative tummy, shit
And I need that wall plastered with them
Plaques and that cash in abundance
(Ayy, ayy)
Catch me on 'Fax with a couple cancer sticks
Hit me for cold and passionate loving ho
Only khakis I'm cuffing
Little man with no manners
Bitch I am actually dusty
Action Los Angeles
Them bastards pack them Pacquiao punches
Pressed on your back for your bluffing
Let's take it back to the ruckus, bitch
Tell momma that her son on a mission
And I ain't seen the motherfucking
Sun in a minute
Gunning with that trouble in that
Come with the quickness
Say it's one for the money, nigga
Run for your riches, nigga
Tell my momma that her son get it, get it
I'ma crunch niggas, getting money
Blunts in the Civic, without
Fuck how you feeling, nigga
(Fuck nigga, fuck how you feeling, nigga)
Nigga, give a fuck how you feeling, nigga
Fuck with a nigga, nigga
I am the soulless who coldest
Creaks in the winter
Rolling splinter deep and itching for
Bitches' dentals to denim
Then puffing loud and come in Fallon
Believe that Tec is offensive
You need a vest when you snitching
In Adidas sweat, I'ma kill 'em all (All)
That pussy wet
Raining cats and doggies up out of her
I reach into the register
Take the paper up out of it
Hate the fake and the talkative
Shake and bake, I'm the opposite
Frosted Flakes and a pot of grit's
Percolating that breakfast
I'm dropping cake on a necklace
Spitting like a nigga just took
A piss in my beverage
That Swisher sit on the dresser, split
Fingers twisting
Decking and standing shit where
The peasants sit mouse with the weapons
They come to fuck off your cheddar, bitch
Tell momma that her son on a mission
And I ain't seen the motherfucking
Sun in a minute
Gunning with that trouble in that
Come with the quickness
Say it's one for the money, nigga
Run for your riches, nigga
Tell my momma that her son get it, get it
I'ma crunch niggas, getting money
Blunts in the Civic, without
Fuck how you feeling, nigga (Nigga)
Nigga, give a fuck how you feeling, nigga
Fuck with a nigga, nigga
Don't be so much confusion does you feel me?
It can hold you back
Yeah, I can't fuck with you
I'm just tryna get this money
(Tryna get this money)
Niggas talking about some bullshit uh
What'd I say? Get away from me
I don't need that anymore it's money
The more you know
I can't fuck with you niggas, nigga
It's money (It's money, it's money)