Al-Doms - Slang lyrics

B***h I’m tryna get Quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid! Weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, slang! Work that nine-to-five, but can’t let s**t make me a slave Stuff my pockets ’til them b*tches outta shape! Quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid! Weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, slang! Work that nine-to-five, but can’t let s**t make me a slave Stuff my pockets ’til them b*tches outta shape! Okay, I had a vision I was spillin’ whippin’ Ferraris, boy Poured cash on my dealer, made him hand me my car keys Bad baby in my passenger, too old for a car seat Drop the top over her head She drops the top where her bra be ‘Cauze just yesterday I was stressin’ for surely How this kid from Virginia gon’ get all his glory And a crib stacked like Bibles man, with all them stories We just want a full house; Danny, Jesse and Joey For the twinny twin twins we All-Sin (Olsen) no folding Coming from a duplex, halfway like parolees Pushin’ piccolo, breaking down green like we mowing To buff-a-low out my life and pay them bills like they posed be My bro keep white in the hood like Kenny McCormick He sick of livin’ dormant, his kids dreams enormous Before you get to the “Hill-in the cut” Neosporin Gotta appreciate the scar that was formin’ ‘Cuz B***h I’m tryna get Quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid! Weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, Slang! Work that nine-to-five, but can’t let s**t make me a slave Stuff my pockets ’til them b*tches outta shape! Quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid! Weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, Slang! Work that nine-to-five, but can’t let s**t make me a slave Stuff my pockets ’til them b*tches outta shape! See I got bigger plans than penitentiary chances Given circumstance, where most young ni**as get plugged Into the system like controller panels Moving grams like nursing homes our only scandal Hoping a OZ get us down the gold brick road that Dorothy ran thru Seeking what the world ain’t hand you? N***a you gotta take that s**t! Taught us all these rules just to realize we had to break that s**t See these the aspirations of a young n***a focused on a flip Dodging the fait of a young n***a buried by 26 Okay ‘cuz I ain’t got a lot, I ain’t had a lot But I want a lot, and just for that I’ll sacrifice a lot I just wanna let the money talk until it’s jaw lock Just to watch the bread flake on ’em like a croissant Sheesh! ‘Cause b***h I’m tryna get Quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid! Weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, slang! Work that nine-to-five, but can’t let s**t make me a slave Stuff my pockets ’til them b*tches outta shape! Quarter pound, half a pound, whole pound, paid! Weigh it up, break it down, bag it up, slang! Work that nine-to-five, but can’t let s**t make me a slave Stuff my pockets ’til them b*tches outta shape