Kid Cla** - Under The Influence lyrics

[Verse 1: D. Ciano] I don't know why they want me to stop, just give me one more So what I can't hold my liquor… that's what the cups for A girl told me get off the ground, I asked her what floor? Then asked if she was what Colione called her, a young who*e *Record stops* But screw blaming a few of those, shorty knew She was upset like New England in Super Bowl 42 Thought I knew to stop soon as my circle finished the first round Could barely walk 10 yards without being the first down These shots I took from the field got my percentage low Yet my team still setting screens up for the give n go And I go, to chase her & taste her, I wanna see her Brown sipping White, do thermometer's check for jungle fever? Two sips got me too lit…. if I down it I'll fall My two lips drenched with juice and now I'm slouched on the wall It's too quick, it hit me harder, how can I stall? Go get Eustace, this liquid courage is cowardly dawg [Chorus] Pour a little in my cup, pour a little in my cup Pour a little in my cup, pour a little in my cup Pour a little in my cup, pour a little in my cup Pour a little in my cup, pour a little in my cup [Verse 2: Playboy Tre] I'm on a double shot of b**h please A n***a flow so cold, it need a sick leave I need a sick leave, better yet, a sick year What your boy been drinking tonight it take ya six years So gon' head and pour another, then another, then another one I'll mix that with the other one And when I'm finally f**ed up you'll know lady Talking nothing but cash money like I know Baby The whole hood going crazy like a psych ward A bunch of gangsters in a cold city like the vice lords Yea.. so tell me what the f** we on now Mind on some kidnap sh**, I'm really gone now Yea.. I don't think that I'll be coming back Tell your mouth this ain't track, don't be running that Take a look around tell me what you really see Trey Boy and D. Ciano good as it can be [Chorus] [Verse 3: Suave Colione] White liquor out the shot gla**es to the face Head nods synchronized to the ba** A dog as ladies refer me, to adult domesticates A lady k**er like Tom Hanks Venue packed wall to wall, but I still feel a cast away Mixing the, Vivica Fox with the Anne Hathaway Till my self control is half away Swim moves through defense to score the s** eyes and wordplay Neck kiss, foreplay to the cuts of the DJ Feeling good too good to attend to the he say, she say It's ironic true blood is crip blue So high the crowd look microscopic through my view Handling stresses of human emotions through sky blue Feeding her mind s** through [?] and haiku Libations at perfect balance of tipsy and too loose Fly as a fleet pilot and fresh as the produce