"DopeBoy Destined" lyrics
Yeah, Aye, Real dope boy, I'm in a rental Toyota
Trying to blend in with traffic, ain't no pulling me over
442 cutlass, with the geeked up motor
I'm the man with these bags, I got the plug on that coca
Cola, stuffing pounds in the Corolla
You get sleepy, don't you drive, nigga go & pull over
Get a coffee, take a shot, nigga drank you a soda
When the cam pull up on ya, run your tag & it's over
When I get back to the city, shit gon' be over
Drop work, count this money, count me some more up
Hit the hood, tell nephew, fuck that shit nigga pour up
Moet Rose, what I'm pissing
Ace of Spade what I throw up
God forbid I get caught by 12
And they catch me with this shit, I'm going all in the jail
Drop work, swipe cards in the field
We got real deal shooters and they piping for real
Spraying cars, they ain't popping no wheels
Last time I got locked up my bond was mill
And we ain't copping appeals
We beating cases, I know just how Johnnie Cochran feel
And the judge look me right in my mother fucking eye
Said "Son, I'm a make sure you mother fucking fry."
And he had me for a second, I ain't gon' mother fucking lie
We drop chicks on the turners, let them mother fucka lie
And the streets did me wrong, I can't mother fucking cry
Closed mouth don't get fed, I ain't mother fucking shy
I got kids & they mother fucking crying
I gotta make it home, I can't mother fucking die
Nigga, I can't mother fucking die
I was being naive, that's an eye for eye
Tryna get the work home overnight, let em' fly
We hit the club, grabbing bottles, let em' fly
Nigga, you see the sparklers in my section
We with them killers & them robbers, we got weapons
Look, nigga this a dope boy lesson
I live this shit for real, I was dope boy destined
I feel like
I feel like I was destined for this shit nigga
Pour up for all my young ambitious niggas
Pour you some Ace up, nigga you deserve it nigga
I remember back nigga
When I first started hustling nigga
I grabbed an ounce of thrax nigga
That shit was some fluff pack thrax nigga
I can't remember if I got that shit from Chico or whoever I got it from
The hustler, it was like 3 dollar .3's
Instead of, nigga was selling blanks
I had 3 dollar .3's
They looked like 5 sacs
You can put em' in a 5 sac
They were .3's, though cause it was fluff pack thrax
Had 3 dollar .3's, that shit brang 280 on a zip
Nigga I was paying God damn 150 on a zip
I was making 130 on a zip, nigga
I had to bankroll full of one's nigga
Standing outside the store in Adamsville talking .3 for 3 dollars, nigga
Now nigga you know where my b roll at
If you listening to this, you know here my b roll at, nigga
HA
Real Dope Boy
Trying to blend in with traffic, ain't no pulling me over
442 cutlass, with the geeked up motor
I'm the man with these bags, I got the plug on that coca
Cola, stuffing pounds in the Corolla
You get sleepy, don't you drive, nigga go & pull over
Get a coffee, take a shot, nigga drank you a soda
When the cam pull up on ya, run your tag & it's over
When I get back to the city, shit gon' be over
Drop work, count this money, count me some more up
Hit the hood, tell nephew, fuck that shit nigga pour up
Moet Rose, what I'm pissing
Ace of Spade what I throw up
God forbid I get caught by 12
And they catch me with this shit, I'm going all in the jail
Drop work, swipe cards in the field
We got real deal shooters and they piping for real
Spraying cars, they ain't popping no wheels
Last time I got locked up my bond was mill
And we ain't copping appeals
We beating cases, I know just how Johnnie Cochran feel
And the judge look me right in my mother fucking eye
Said "Son, I'm a make sure you mother fucking fry."
And he had me for a second, I ain't gon' mother fucking lie
We drop chicks on the turners, let them mother fucka lie
And the streets did me wrong, I can't mother fucking cry
Closed mouth don't get fed, I ain't mother fucking shy
I got kids & they mother fucking crying
I gotta make it home, I can't mother fucking die
Nigga, I can't mother fucking die
I was being naive, that's an eye for eye
Tryna get the work home overnight, let em' fly
We hit the club, grabbing bottles, let em' fly
Nigga, you see the sparklers in my section
We with them killers & them robbers, we got weapons
Look, nigga this a dope boy lesson
I live this shit for real, I was dope boy destined
I feel like
I feel like I was destined for this shit nigga
Pour up for all my young ambitious niggas
Pour you some Ace up, nigga you deserve it nigga
I remember back nigga
When I first started hustling nigga
I grabbed an ounce of thrax nigga
That shit was some fluff pack thrax nigga
I can't remember if I got that shit from Chico or whoever I got it from
The hustler, it was like 3 dollar .3's
Instead of, nigga was selling blanks
I had 3 dollar .3's
They looked like 5 sacs
You can put em' in a 5 sac
They were .3's, though cause it was fluff pack thrax
Had 3 dollar .3's, that shit brang 280 on a zip
Nigga I was paying God damn 150 on a zip
I was making 130 on a zip, nigga
I had to bankroll full of one's nigga
Standing outside the store in Adamsville talking .3 for 3 dollars, nigga
Now nigga you know where my b roll at
If you listening to this, you know here my b roll at, nigga
HA
Real Dope Boy
