Young Chris - Nosetalgia lyrics

Published

0 295 0

Young Chris - Nosetalgia lyrics

ft. Peedi Crakk Heart as cold as December Shots hard as the Devil Hustle, plotting some reggies Just surviving the ghetto Survival of the fittest Itchy fingers for triggers Sticky fingers we got, it's the fingers that hit us Best women in tropic, just hella exotic You can smell on my pocket Friend tell 'em I got it Counterclock on the colon just to sprinkle a soda Whole city embrace him like he a soldier Waiting to blow, ready to go if them n***as approach me They watching the cars, they watching the sauce So I sleep with it closely sponsored links Yeah, sleeping banana, freak them with Daisy Orgasm, they get to busting, leave them no dely I'm ready to go, he's ready to blow, my n***a, he's buzzing I murdered a cop, he's better than who? My n***a, you bugging We get hot and we thuggin', 36 in the oven God, I'm pitching and hugging, fiends sticking and puffing Hard now, we crumbling, yeah, we flipping the water And we richer than Porter and I'm hitting they daughters n***as saying wishing me luck, n***as wish me to die Kid n***a's alive Cousin on meth leave, uncle on crack crime Brother on a jail cell, youngest on the back block Giving no warnings, been in the corner with my Glock high Lil' clown, f** you for a pound with that Mac out Sky blue, one time slid through, it's green now Stop in fresh lanes, face down like any day now Licking d** in strip clubs, this is the Devil's playground I'm intentionally in it, my intuitions is vague now Could be lottas of K rounds, make your heart skip a tempo Leave the aroma, disarranges, build me the incidentals Gotta switch up the rental, my appointment's in pencil 30 and stitching and turn the info in a sip I'm just Peedi, I can't be what you perceive me To be what you seeing and believe on your TV I'm iller than watching Thriller in 3D See me still chilling with my n***a, see, it's still us, P Feeling like a million, f** these n***as RIP Buck n***as all they see, f**ing with the black and Latin Master P Bout it, bout it, shot it 'cause I'm probably bout it f*ggots hopping off the closet like style out of pocket