Reek Da Villian - Chill lyrics

Published

0 159 0

Reek Da Villian - Chill lyrics

[Hook: Busta Rhymes] I tried to tell a n***a chill Call him David, put the mess in the mada Copperfield For real, n***as know the drill Mommy on that molly while she pop another pill For real, tell that b**h to chill For real, tell that b**h to chill For real, n***a better chill And if they don't, just line em up It's perfect timin for the k** [Verse 1: Reek Da Villian] I don't care about the money that your man make I hit a homerun, now I'm runnin through my fan base Up the green from a garden to a landscape Sounds be the only lingo cops will never translate They pull up, I pull out that thing and pop it I ain't f**in with no dicks, I'm on that Lorena Bobbitt I'm no Davie but them ladies say the boys way be Crockett I'm the plug in the street and you a motherf**in socket Had to chill for a while but I'm welcomed back Was low key, how I'm underneath the welcome mat Now the b**hes see me in the Forbes So if I give you my number, like a finny you should call You should tell your man to chill cause you're f**in with a dog And he be firecracker flaming and you f**in with a ball I got them crills on the street, got Jahlil on the beat Only Phantoms, ain't no Caddys when we roll out in them fleets [Hook] [Verse 2: J Doe] Wrist on chill Neck on chill Hoes all up in my grill I cop a feel then I tell that b**h to chill Hop behind the wheel and get back to chasin that mill Ok, big black zonin, on sh** pumpin Beef is like a car, to start it I push a bu*ton And it's over with it's over with I don't know if you noticed it But I just got my weight up b**h, I'm getting checks and bonuses Pull up in the covers with, yea I see you lookin As you should, come and get this wood, yea that getting go G shot wrist, Reebok kicks Watch my n***as f** the place u, King Kong sh** She back and forth on my balls, ping-pong b**h She playin house with my ding dong, I'm playin ding dong ditch My bar is too ill, way too trill Oh that's yo girl actin up, tell that b**h to chill For real [Hook] [Verse 3: Busta Rhymes] Yea, ya'll know When I come through and I lock it So much bread I should attach a laundry basket to my pocket You ain't really knowin, ready for the lesson? See me whippin a Boeing, 7-47 See the wrist be glowin til I'm shinin like a misfit Spark with n***a cascade, dish washing liquid Bread up in the palasades, mansion into stash house Wildin in the club while b**hes dancing with they a** out Mossberg military in case n***as act out Wildin like a click over traded n***as blacked out Why oh why oh why n***a? You don't wanna try it See my n***as squeezing til they finger muscle getting tired n***a Finish with the coke up watch it rattle through the woofa Like a kid cooked the coke up in a f**in pressure cooker Then I quickly count the profit, cop another castle Keep cooking until they want a n***a on their cooking channel You know my style, you see the way I sip up At 10 thousand a bottle, sh** you know my n***as grip up I'm on that raise the throttle sh**, you know I got the hook up Go ahead and f**in gobble b**h, it's simple like the pushup Rocket launcher swag b**h, see how I'm propelling ya'll Taking over everything, I'm tired of telling ya'll Why you always talk, could give a f** what n***as chat bout Keep applying the pressure until you n***as tap out Now pa** out [Hook]

You need to sign in for commenting.
No comments yet.