Warhol.SS, Jay Furr - City 2 City lyrics
[Warhol.SS, Jay Furr - City 2 City lyrics]
(You got this beat from Ant) yeah, yeah
Let's go yeah yeah
Ayy, ooh, city to city, bitch
I'm countin' racks up these niggas bitches
I know that they cap up
I'm in the back smokin' dope
Countin' racks up
Big ass Glock make a fuck nigga back up
We pullin' up six deep in a black truck
You know I ain't trippin'
Big bro keep a MAC tucked
You know I ain't trippin' 'cause I'ma go far
I'm smokin' dope, feel like I'm on Mars
You cannot try us, you can't pull our card
We up a Glock, turn his ass to a track star
And he ain't on shit
We know he just act hard
If rappin' don't work, then I am a trap star
Put him on a shirt, run up in his traphouse
We pullin' up to your block, it's a blackout
He cry over bitches, yeah, he is dramatic
And if it's some tension
We gon' let you have it
Pull up with that fuck shit
We want all the static
Bitch, this is a Rollie, bitch
This not a Patek that lil' nigga broke
That shit must be tragic
Bitch, I'm a cash fiend
I think I'm an addict
Addicted to green, I gotta go grab it
Bentley truck cream when we be in traffic
Run up on me, bitch, is you serious?
Exotic cars like Fast and the Furious
Bitch, we ain't friendly
Get killed if you curious
Big bro off a bean
You know ain't no fear in him
He ain't talkin' money, so no
I ain't hearin' him
Glock with a beam, long live Nick
No more killin' us
Yeah, Glock with a beam
Make his car do a cartwheel (Bah)
Folks hit the Wocky, ho
Tell me how drop feel (yeah)
K with supressor, we blow out an area (Bah)
Know I'ma kill 'em, so ain't no comparison
(Know I'ma kill 'em)
I'm on that 'Lato ('Lato, bitch)
Higher than a motherfucker (yeah)
Hop out a foreign with Jay
That's my blood brother (Skrrt)
If he speak on the gang
Then them slugs comin' (yeah)
Deuce on the cream (Deuce)
Fendi on me and my bitch in Celine (yeah)
I just poured a whole pint
Spent a ticket on lean (yeah)
I be Prada steppin', niggas knowin' I'm clean
And these bitches fuckin'
So these niggas is sick
I just went up on Crenshaw
With two of my Crips (yeah)
And the marathon runnin'
You know it'll continue
And them choppers on me if he havin' an issue
Ayy, ooh, city to city, bitch
I'm countin' racks up
These niggas bitches, I know that they cap up
I'm in the back smokin' dope
Countin' racks up
Big ass Glock make a fuck nigga back up
We pullin' up six deep in a black truck
You know I ain't trippin'
Big bro keep a MAC tucked
You know I ain't trippin' 'cause I'ma go far
I'm smokin' dope, feel like I'm on Mars
Let's go yeah yeah
Ayy, ooh, city to city, bitch
I'm countin' racks up these niggas bitches
I know that they cap up
I'm in the back smokin' dope
Countin' racks up
Big ass Glock make a fuck nigga back up
We pullin' up six deep in a black truck
You know I ain't trippin'
Big bro keep a MAC tucked
You know I ain't trippin' 'cause I'ma go far
I'm smokin' dope, feel like I'm on Mars
You cannot try us, you can't pull our card
We up a Glock, turn his ass to a track star
And he ain't on shit
We know he just act hard
If rappin' don't work, then I am a trap star
Put him on a shirt, run up in his traphouse
We pullin' up to your block, it's a blackout
He cry over bitches, yeah, he is dramatic
And if it's some tension
We gon' let you have it
Pull up with that fuck shit
We want all the static
Bitch, this is a Rollie, bitch
This not a Patek that lil' nigga broke
That shit must be tragic
Bitch, I'm a cash fiend
I think I'm an addict
Addicted to green, I gotta go grab it
Bentley truck cream when we be in traffic
Run up on me, bitch, is you serious?
Exotic cars like Fast and the Furious
Bitch, we ain't friendly
Get killed if you curious
Big bro off a bean
You know ain't no fear in him
He ain't talkin' money, so no
I ain't hearin' him
Glock with a beam, long live Nick
No more killin' us
Yeah, Glock with a beam
Make his car do a cartwheel (Bah)
Folks hit the Wocky, ho
Tell me how drop feel (yeah)
K with supressor, we blow out an area (Bah)
Know I'ma kill 'em, so ain't no comparison
(Know I'ma kill 'em)
I'm on that 'Lato ('Lato, bitch)
Higher than a motherfucker (yeah)
Hop out a foreign with Jay
That's my blood brother (Skrrt)
If he speak on the gang
Then them slugs comin' (yeah)
Deuce on the cream (Deuce)
Fendi on me and my bitch in Celine (yeah)
I just poured a whole pint
Spent a ticket on lean (yeah)
I be Prada steppin', niggas knowin' I'm clean
And these bitches fuckin'
So these niggas is sick
I just went up on Crenshaw
With two of my Crips (yeah)
And the marathon runnin'
You know it'll continue
And them choppers on me if he havin' an issue
Ayy, ooh, city to city, bitch
I'm countin' racks up
These niggas bitches, I know that they cap up
I'm in the back smokin' dope
Countin' racks up
Big ass Glock make a fuck nigga back up
We pullin' up six deep in a black truck
You know I ain't trippin'
Big bro keep a MAC tucked
You know I ain't trippin' 'cause I'ma go far
I'm smokin' dope, feel like I'm on Mars