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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Lyricist: Kevin Gates
Lyrics:
[Hook: Kevin Gates] I Swear to God, I'm in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight) I Swear to God, I'm in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight) I Swear to God, I'm in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight) You think I'm slippin', try to rip me, bet my pistol work!
[Verse 1: Kevin Gates] Red bone in the back seat and I'm being chauffeured by a junkie On the movie reel it's 'A Time to Kill' but I'm steady stroking her monkey And I swear to God, I'll kick her out the car if I smell my hand and it's funky My trap house sits on the street, you could come and see if it's bumpin' I can hit the mall for Adidas sneaks, take a bitch to eat and then dump her Hit Wal-Mart, buy house slippers, come back - the bitch still jumpin' (Boing) I'm talking goin' PoGo--hold on, I don't do no Pogo I'm too fresh to be jumpin' up and down rockin' all of this Polo Women playing Marco Polo, I ain't even work the mojo Ask 'em why they goin' loco, fine and sexy when I'm solo I'mma [?] sell in Gardere, in the duplex to the right She can whip around her neck, go get me some shit to light!(Gates!)
[Hook: Kevin Gates]
[Verse 2: Percy Keith] I don't give a fuck and I think Nook would do the same Clique house on flame, but it ain't in my name A couple grand that's pocket change, I put that on your brain My swag like cocaine, put that in your vein Your girl on my dick, say she wanna be for me now But I got a girl that I love, her name Nina Every time I dream of, buku cocaĆna A bitch calls my phone, wake me up and fucks my dream up Wait, it's a sale, calling on my cell My shit be blowing up It be too hard to tell And we be smoking purple It ain't too hard to smell My dope be coming in bricks, it ain't too hard to sell
[Interlude: Kevin Gates] White tail, red nose, she a Reindeer (What that is?) (Sniiiiiiiifffffff) Powder sniffer, still a reindeer I Swear to God, I'm in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight) I Swear to God, I'm in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight)
[Verse 3: Kevin Gates] I just fell back in my section with a Mexican supply Take a good look at this counter, all this white shit 'bout to fly Fresh up out the pot with lock up, probably go before it dry Niggas stoppin' by to buy, got Port Allen on my line In the middle of December block be clickin' like July (Brrrracka) They say my shit killin' people and I'm helpin' people die Those who choose to use it, use it, I just happen to supply Don't encourage marijuana-- I just happen to get high My daddy Sam, very smart, he made me sharp before he died 'Stay away if they feet ugly, sucking, fucking entertainers' Seeing nothing as in payment all she want was entertainment Grind infinity will make the wrist whip a Mercedes
[Interlude: Kevin Gates]
[Outro: Kevin Gates] You already know You ole bitch ass niggas need to hide y'all ? My lil son fuckin' these house outchea mane My lil son go to school you know and , yeah Michael Kors you know, everything Adidas, everything My youngin' retawdid', he ain't nothin' but sixteen Out his mind, out his mind, out his mind, out his mind I'mma grind, I'mma grind, gettin money, I'mma grind I just got the big face on my arm like my nigga Stroke You can believe that Mane i was bout' to run out and ran that bitch Big-face Roley on me
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