"Tone's Home" lyrics
Duffel Bag Hottie & Black Soprano Family Lyrics
I want my environment to a product of [?]
These are the real Sopranos
Yeah
My little homies quick to dome shit
Mami Mary's just with a chrome fit
Out my prison and got close friends dying off my phone list
You got 20 diamond chains, but you don't own shit
I'm out the country fucking baddie, that's the shit that never make me homesick
Huh, my little jit, he come foreign tints
I told him stop bragging about Alex's courts and stiffs
For talking slick, I clip his wings and throw him off a cliff
A Tortures Chris shit
I can get the bosses hit
They ain't never sold his coke, they sold his hard
In a level seven pent, I found Philly torn on the yard
I circled twice then I checked my click then I parked
Since they let me in the game, I ain't take a pin out my palm
Look
I killed his main boy and his main man and Philly slang
Dropped the window then I sprayed the K like the titties hang
I take the head off any any rapper sayin' Benny name
I was black Soprano before he passed out any chains
Facts
And I ain't sayin' that
This shit ain't none of the new artists, you know?
I'm just lettin' niggas know that's my motherfuckin' brother
And I'm ridin' with a right or wrong
Yeah
We was broke together, now we gettin' rich together
You know, like
We was them same niggas man, we still them same niggas
Standing on Goodyear and Ferry with plastic bags under our semblance, man
Sause it was cold as hell
I move rhymes right way, they gonna whine my chase
Duffle bags in the closet, my money long like Chase
Stick it down and I skate like I'm Skeeton
How is that niggas sleep in the trap, breaking off beats?
How is that niggas banging the strap in front of the priest?
Federal duffle, I got the taxes with the creases
Scope on the muzzle, I dress my strap like it was Easter
I never truss so I lay the clappin' to he sleepin'
Life is a struggle when you get cash, it's hard to keep it
Had to grip on my bubble, I'm off traffic with the demons
I was destined for trouble, crackin' my jacket just to feed it
Shorty she suckin' dick, put a cas, 'cause she need it
Real shit, I know life is gonna have these flicking channels
These VH passes should match this shit, it's flimsy like a fucking sandwich
My hood I'm branded, I play the window tune, I cook advantage
My ass be jannis, that's the money, nah my shit is branded
It's Duff
These are the real Sopranos
Yeah
My little homies quick to dome shit
Mami Mary's just with a chrome fit
Out my prison and got close friends dying off my phone list
You got 20 diamond chains, but you don't own shit
I'm out the country fucking baddie, that's the shit that never make me homesick
Huh, my little jit, he come foreign tints
I told him stop bragging about Alex's courts and stiffs
For talking slick, I clip his wings and throw him off a cliff
A Tortures Chris shit
I can get the bosses hit
They ain't never sold his coke, they sold his hard
In a level seven pent, I found Philly torn on the yard
I circled twice then I checked my click then I parked
Since they let me in the game, I ain't take a pin out my palm
Look
I killed his main boy and his main man and Philly slang
Dropped the window then I sprayed the K like the titties hang
I take the head off any any rapper sayin' Benny name
I was black Soprano before he passed out any chains
Facts
And I ain't sayin' that
This shit ain't none of the new artists, you know?
I'm just lettin' niggas know that's my motherfuckin' brother
And I'm ridin' with a right or wrong
Yeah
We was broke together, now we gettin' rich together
You know, like
We was them same niggas man, we still them same niggas
Standing on Goodyear and Ferry with plastic bags under our semblance, man
Sause it was cold as hell
I move rhymes right way, they gonna whine my chase
Duffle bags in the closet, my money long like Chase
Stick it down and I skate like I'm Skeeton
How is that niggas sleep in the trap, breaking off beats?
How is that niggas banging the strap in front of the priest?
Federal duffle, I got the taxes with the creases
Scope on the muzzle, I dress my strap like it was Easter
I never truss so I lay the clappin' to he sleepin'
Life is a struggle when you get cash, it's hard to keep it
Had to grip on my bubble, I'm off traffic with the demons
I was destined for trouble, crackin' my jacket just to feed it
Shorty she suckin' dick, put a cas, 'cause she need it
Real shit, I know life is gonna have these flicking channels
These VH passes should match this shit, it's flimsy like a fucking sandwich
My hood I'm branded, I play the window tune, I cook advantage
My ass be jannis, that's the money, nah my shit is branded
It's Duff
