(Hook)
|
I tried to tell a nigga chill
|
Call him David, put the mess in the mada Copperfield
|
For real, niggas know the drill
|
Mommy on that molly while she poppin up a pill
|
For real, tell that bitch to chill
|
For real, tell that bitch to chill
|
For real, nigga better chill
|
And if they don’t, just line em up
|
It’s perfect timin for the kill
|
|
(Verse)
|
I don’t care about the money that your man make
|
I hit a homerun, now I’m runnin through my fan base
|
Up the green from a garden to a landscape
|
Sounds be the only lingo cops will never translate
|
They pull up, I pull out that thing and pop it
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I ain’t fuckin with no dicks, I’m on hella ring bob it
|
I’m no Davie but them ladies say the boys way be Crockett
|
I’m the plug in the street and you a motherfuckin socket
|
Had to chill for a while but I’m welcomed back
|
Was low key, how I’m underneath the welcome mat
|
Now the bitches see me in the Forbes
|
So if I give you my number, like a finny you should call
|
You should tell your man to chill cuz you’re fuckin with a dog
|
And he be firecracker flaming and you fuckin with a ball
|
I got them crills on the street, got Jahlil on the beat
|
Only Phantoms, ain’t no Caddys when we roll out in them fleets
|
|
(Hook)
|
I tried to tell a nigga chill
|
Call him David, put the mess in the mada Copperfield
|
For real, niggas know the drill
|
Mommy on that molly while she poppin up a pill
|
For real, tell that bitch to chill
|
For real, tell that bitch to chill
|
For real, nigga better chill
|
And if they don’t, just line em up
|
It’s perfect timin for the kill
|
|
(Verse)
|
Wrist on chill
|
Neck on chill
|
Hoes all up in my grill
|
I cop a feel then I tell that bitch to chill
|
Hop behind the wheel and get back to chasin that mill
|
Ok, big black zonin, on shit pumpin
|
Beef is like a car, to start it I push a button
|
And it’s over when it’s over with
|
I don’t know if you noticed it
|
But I just got my weight up bitch, I’m getting checks and bonuses
|
Pull up in the covers with, yea I see you lookin
|
As you should, come and get this wood, yea that getting dough
|
G shot wrist, Reebok kicks
|
My niggas fuck the place u, King Kong shit
|
She back and forth on my balls, ping-pong bitch
|
She playin house with my ding dong, I’m playin ding dong ditch
|
Her bar is too ill, way too trill
|
If that’s yo girl actin up, tell that bitch to chill
|
For real
|
|
(Hook)
|
I tried to tell a nigga chill
|
Call him David, put the mess in the mada Copperfield
|
For real, niggas know the drill
|
Mommy on that molly while she poppin up a pill
|
For real, tell that bitch to chill
|
For real, tell that bitch to chill
|
For real, nigga better chill
|
And if they don’t, just line em up
|
It’s perfect timin for the kill
|
|
(Verse)
|
Yea, yall know
|
When I come through and I lock it
|
So much bread I should attach a laundry basket to my pocket
|
You ain’t really knowin, ready for the lesson?
|
See me whippin a Boeing, 7-47
|
See the wrist be glowin til I’m shinin like a misfit
|
Spark with nigga cascade, dish washing liquid
|
Bread up in the palasades, mansion into stash house
|
Wilin in the club while bitches dancing with they ass out
|
Mossberg military in case niggas act out
|
On em like a click over traded niggas blacked out
|
Why oh why oh why nigga?
|
You don’t wanna try it
|
See my niggas squeezing til they finger muzzle getting tired nigga
|
Finish with the coke I watch it rattle through the waffa
|
Like a kid cooked the coke up in a fuckin pressure cooker
|
The I quickly count the profit, cop another castle key
|
Cook until they want a nigga on their cooking channel
|
You know my style, you see the way I sip up
|
At 10 thousand a bottle, shit you know my niggas grip up
|
I’m on that raise the throttle shit, you know I got the hulk
|
Go ahead and fuckin gobble bitch, it’s simple like the pushup
|
Rocket launcher swag bitch, see how I’m propelling yall
|
Taking over everything, I’m tired of telling yall
|
Why you always talk, could give a fuck what niggas chat bout
|
Keep applying the pressure until you niggas tap out
|
Now pass out
|
|
(Hook)
|
I tried to tell a nigga chill
|
Call him David, put the mess in the mada Copperfield
|
For real, niggas know the drill
|
Mommy on that molly while she poppin up a pill
|
For real, tell that bitch to chill
|
For real, tell that bitch to chill
|
For real, nigga better chill
|
And if they don’t, just line em up
|
It’s perfect timin for the kill
|
|
-----------------
|
Chill
|
| Birdman |
