Young T & Bugsey, Roberto C - Roberto C lyrics

Florence, Italy, Roberto Cavalli
Not the Kelly Rowland, that was Ashanti
We gon' double up the frame on the car seat
Can't be too safe, you know it's on me
That my bestie, gave her the car keys
Put my young G all in Versace
No bluff, I ain't inna’ malarkey
When you lonely, you better call me

I can't fuck with niggas if they fuckin' with my enemy
Dismiss it, I ain't rockin' with that energy
Pain in my memory, the roads in my memories
Thinking 'bout my nigga, I just dropped a likkle Hennessy
Remember when I blast a gun charge in the secondary
And now I'm pourin' red rum, in the cemetery
Likkle debate, my QC's got chemistry
Miraculously in the streets, like Sesame
We at a dinner, got my OT, bitch, bellin' me
Polly on my shoulder, think I move too peppery
She was movin' pattern but my boo ting’ stressin' me
Live in the mechanic, I should do a documentary
Bark it, I can't drop it cah the polly and the press on me
I was gonna bruck it but my cody wasn't lettin' me
Two-two's, four-doors and the remedies
Cock it when I pop it, blow the whistle like a referee

Can I get a lead from all my ladies?
I got Louis on my laces
I need the AP or the D-Day, yeah
Send, on a way, we in Chane', 'ne, yeah
Dealings, dealings
In the Lamb' truck with my demons
She freak and teach me
Lean on me, yeah

Florence, Italy, Roberto Cavalli
Not the Kelly Rowland, that was Ashanti
We gon' double up the frame on the car seat
Can't be too safe, you know it's on me
That my bestie, gave her the car keys
Put my young G all in Versace
No bluff, I ain't inna’ malarkey
When you lonely, you better call me

Hey, what's up? We makin' a leg down
Stick right on me, I give her like ten-five
Couple pistol, brodie, he bare with the tre pound
I'ma meet K, get from the fifth to H-Town
When she shake the bag, give me a lick now
One more, rock your man, you need to take pride in you
The pure, the Cali, the diesel too sour with you
We know how to bake, we whip a egg flour with you

Born winner, the opposite of a gentleman
Remember when I used to eat baked beans for dinner
Done up deities, like, "Say cheese", my nigga
And in the A3, she ate me forever
I'ma say [?] we make a dream team
Tell me how did you fit in your Billie Jean jeans?
Cop the Christian Dior, I love a bee sting
Coochie wet as a shore, it took a beating

Can I get a lead from all my ladies?
I got Louis on my laces
I need the AP or the D-Day, yeah
Send, on a way, we in Chane', 'ne, yeah
Dealings, dealings
In the Lamb' truck with my demons
She freak and teach me
Lean on me, yeah

Florence, Italy, Roberto Cavalli
Not the Kelly Rowland, that was Ashanti
We gon' double up the frame on the car seat
Can't be too safe, you know it's on me
That my bestie, gave her the car keys
Put my young G all in Versace
No bluff, I ain't inna’ malarkey
When you lonely, you better call me