King Chip - Five Bucks lyrics

Published

0 232 0

King Chip - Five Bucks lyrics

Verse 1 (Big Sean): I'm smoking loudly, I woke them all I pick up that tree, when it's not far I'm gone off that tree, when it's not tall I'm in love with tree, I'm a Avatar I pick up a O from my n***a Ralphie My bro and me, but he is not Alfie Gone off that goo punch, it makes me drowsy Roll up the windows, it makes it cloudy Daaaaamn, if you ain't know I make these girls nice, smokin' paper and bowls My ladies like blunts, hit 'em twice if not once Then I blow 'em off and just pa** 'em to my bro Now catch me gettin' brain if a n***a not learnin' I be spendin' money if a n***a not earnin' Catch me in the back seat if I'm not stirrin' And I be rollin' up if a n***a not burnin' boiii Chorus: I got five on it (got it good) Grab your fo', let's get keyed I got five on it Messin with that endo weed I got five on it (got it good) It's got me stuck, cannot go back I got five on it Patna let's go half on a sack Verse 2 (Chip Tha Ripper): You know a n***a like to stay at that cruisin' altitude up in the sky Tried to f** with paper planes but it's not the same high Cleveland n***as ain't no b**hes we prefer the cigarillo smoke If you say it take away from taste then get some better smoke 'Cus the sh** I blow can be smelt on the next block Ain't no middle mans everything you need is in-stock This Glock is all the security I need I be solo dolo when you see me blowin' on some weed Why speed? No need, I be just takin' it slow I be so clean, diesel overpowers my cologne Now all the bad b**hes who blaze are shiftin' this way Ya'll just some white belts with these leaves I am the sensei Now bow to the bag, never save the best for last When I come around n***as know to hurry up and pa** f** a dime sack let's cop a quarter pound Now what the f** is you gon' put down? n***a I got five Chorus: Verse 3 (Curren$y): High wired, 64 hydraulics Not stolen, lost my keys I was high patna f** you want, this a RAW paper not a blunt You must got me mixed up with Chip 'cus This Spitta, Zig-Zag a whole zip up sh** strong, should'a came with a big pick-up b**hes callin' me wanna smoke beggin' for me to pick up She blow me while I'm blowin' rings of that k**a That weed you smokin' brown Fake weed too much make-up, clowns Get real smokin' green strawberry fields High standin' up feelin' like I'm layin' down Couple booshie Judys came 'round Actin' all stuck up Now they just stuck from smokin' with us How the hallways smellin', is my windows open enough? I hear walkie talkies is security comin' up? ...f** Chorus: