Young Roddy - Walkie Talkies lyrics

[Produced by Thelonious Martin] [Verse 1: Curren$y] Uh, colder than the airport Music hustling, ducking the rap task force Man, I'm just tryna cop my man's a Porsche Writing these d** until my hand get sore Maneuvering, Cuban links, 24 karats Who did you think was coming to dinner, it wasn't apparent? Your n***a Spitta, smellin' like a pound of that k**a Open the window, these s**ers lungs too tender Homes I been in it, for more than a minute Fathering styles, lot of the n***as is just my littles I'mma stop, with one bu*ton stuntin' dissolve the top Open air, in something rare [Verse 2: Young Roddy] Them n***as got blood stains all on the dollar bill But they don't care, they rinse it off 'til ain't nothin' there Had to keep my kicks clean, may not get another pair sh** hard, where the f** I'm coming from they play it raw My God, I'm tired; I've been running from the law Even runnin' up the cars, they want me dead behind bars, no sir Momma got another gig, moved on her own turf Only fist fights around that time, nobody got murked Until they started playin' with bangers Nobody got caught until they started pointing fingers Sinking, ain't that a b**h I stay fatigued down on some battle sh** I never tell, I ain't on no Donnie Brasco sh** I'm on Sosa, this life made me a soldier I'm no Tony, I never turn on my homie, boy This ain't no country for the wack and the phony boy This sh** could get wicked in this New Jet City n***a