Jim Boeheim

Stove God Cooks

Ainda não temos a cifra desta música.

I'm just tryna make it home
Rental car packed and I'm tryna make it home (Make it home)
I'm just tryna make it home (Make it home)
Shooter with me, now we tryna make it home (Brrrrt)
I'm just tryna make it home
Fed tapdancing on my phone, ooh
I'm tryna make it home, I'm just tryna make it home
I'm just tryna make it home
Now the feds on my phone, ooh
I'm tryna make it home
We just tryna make it home (uh)

Upstate brick-breaker
Still got one hand on the rock like cliffhangers
Big Dipper all in my chain, nigga
I bet you get to sprintin' when they get to lickin' that thang at ya (Brrrt)
Ziggin' and zaggin', I'm whippin' it back
I wrestle with the package like Cactus Jack, that's a fact
Stove legend, bitch, I'm a whole seven
Double 0 GoldenEye through the scope weapon, my soul destined (Gold)
Big homie told me loyalty's a blessin'
Hieroglyphics shit, my name was etched in it
I landed when the aliens came (Yah)
I fell bad with the lean, her bag is Celine (Yah)
You don't wanna make the front of this magazine, please
Say my name, they get to buckin' off
Shit backfire like Uncle Buck exhaust
That kind of chatter is reserved for the niggas that's clappin'
You ain't shit but a packet of sucka sauce (Pussy)
This jacket came from Dapper basement
I'm murder mixed with pastor mixed with "Pappy" Mason
Syracuse orangemen, Just Don shorts
Feds ran the sweep better than the Texas Longhorns
Had to applaud them crackers
They caught me lackin' early mornin'
Pourin' almond milk into my Honey Smacks
Crashed the rented Hyundai, I felt like Kanye
Runnin' the base like I play for the Padres
This Mr. God Face, they hope my mind break
My third eye wake
My bitch vegan (Yo), my closet is full of skeletons
My garage is possessed by a demon, that's when the Ghost is in it
Tell the record label they get no percentage
Mix the coke with baking soda
Shoulder leanin' in the pot, they thought Young Dro was whippin' (Woo)