Swag Surf lyrics

by

Fre$h (Short Dawg)


[Intro]
KE on the Track
No Ceilings
Ah...
O—OK

[Verse]
I got this chrome on this Bugatti, I'm strong in this Bugatti
Two V8s, ain't no such thing as driving calm in this Bugatti
b*tch, I’m bad, I'm worse, I'll pass the purp
Don't f*ck with me 'cause right now, I'm higher than Captain Kirk
I swear, I be the sickest n*gga, you can ask the nurse
And if you throw it in a bag I bet I'll snatch her purse
OK, I spaz, I curse; you last, I'm first
I'm on your ass, like dirt; behind that cash, get murked
I'm talking big sh*t, n*gga, join my hit list, n*gga
What's the matter? Check your bladder, I'm the sh*t, p*ss, n*gga
Shoot the witness, n*gga
Hold court in the streets and convict this n*gga
Ol' di*kless n*gga
Man, I'm running with the blocka, Young Money, motherf*cker
You think we gon' do our thing? Well, ain't it sunny in the summer?
And we coming for the commas, and whoever among us
And you know I'ma bust my ass until my crew very humongous
I said, T.I., hold your head, and Mack, hold your head
Wish I could but I can't say some other names 'cause of the Feds
And to my Bloods, code red, man, you know how we play it
And if it costs to be the boss, oh well, I guess I gotta pay
I—I'm a New Orleans n*gga, I don't take no sh*t
Take the brain off the whip; now, it don't make no sense
Stunt hard on these b*tches, I ain't promised tomorrow
Now, women kicking it with me like Nomar Garciaparra
Fuq' roll them killer plants, the Little Shop of Horror
And we roll them b*tches thick, make 'em look like Toccara
Man, I'm too much for these n*ggas and three much for these hoes
The world is in my hands, and I keep my hands closed
I love my baby mamas, they get my highest honor
Gotta take care of them kids, man, I know you heard Obama
And I live on an island, Atlantic in my backyard
I just tell my pilot to land it in my backyard
Quarterback, shotgun, you don’t get any sack yards
b*tch, I ball hard, breaking all the backboards
Pretty Boy Floyd, step up, I will crack yours
And even at the White House, we pull up at the back doors
Walk around like I'm 30 feet tall
Tiger Woods, all these hoes tryna birdie these balls
In the Porsche 911, like emergency calls
Man, I just be chilling, I'm cool like Lou Rawls
Young Money in the building, I'm putting up new walls
n*gga take your Mrs. Officer and set some new laws
My flow is like rubbing two logs
Young Mula, we the new sh*t, new drawers, ugh
Now, get off my di*k, I ain't f*cking with you
Watch me shoot to the bank, I'm a money pistol
Weezy beat the beat up like Sonny Liston
Redbone do me good, then her friend assist her
I mean, a b*tch she never met, her best friend, or sister
I leave the pus*y micro-soft like Windows Vista
Young Tunechi, pop that coochie for a goon, ho
Bullet in you boys' memory, now you act like you don't know
Eastside who I do it for, Eagle Street, right by the store
Katrina wiped the city out but couldn't f*ck with Hollygrove
Lost some real n*ggas I knew from a long time ago
But Heaven or Hell, I'm hoping that they be where I'ma go
Take a n*gga gal and make her come give me a private show
Still "long hair, don't care" like a Navajo
I'm the hardest sh*t, go in your ass and search
I smash this verse, and I swag and surf
[Outro]
No Ceilings!
Hahahaha!
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