5 In The Morning lyrics

by

Bow Wow


[Verse: Mack Maine]
No matter what I try to do, I can’t do right
The other day I jacked a hot pickle and fruit stripes
Then me and my n*ggas stole 2 bikes
Then we went on like 2 flights, no plane
I’m talking ‘bout the night hustle
Me, myself I flex my muscle
I ain’t really tryina tussle
See that thing will prolly bust you, brat!
And I know the cops tryina bug you
I hope your sh*t ain’t tapped n*gga
And I hope you ain’t wearing a wire
Pour some water on him, electrify him, set him on fire
If a n*gga playing with me and my people
See we don’t play tho
n*ggas think that this just a game
It ain’t no play tho, but I mold you, scold you
Fold you like clothes dust
Straight out of the drier, then puff some trees to get higher
sh*t, n*ggas know they Carey like Mariah
Kids that ain’t theirs on they taxes
sh*t, y’all n*ggas acting like actress
Y’all don’t know Beatrice, that’s my uncle from the city n*gga
B32 too n*gga
You understand? Do your history, your research
f*ck around and they gonn prolly have to call a reaper
Your face on the t shirt, now you restin in peace boy
Playing around with us, this sh*t could get hot like grease boy
Fly over the greece boy, money get increase boy
Get it straight like the criss boy
Pullin up in like retards
Get under your skin like a keylord
The only alphabets we cool with is the d boys, and deep boys
You ain’t the man n*gga, you’s a decoy
Yous’ a lookout, you eating off of them
When the birds come in, you never ever see em, mula
You ain’t the type that’s tryina get the bands up BM
n*ggas that be langing on my nerves like my BM
Hang em up in the lame n*gga museum
We quick to zim, put em to sleep
If they playin round with me and my n*ggas
Yeah we quick to creep
Yeah we come through 30 deep
And 30 cars, prolly got like 30 broads
Knock off 30 boys, tryina play around with me and my, me and my, me and my
Me and my rich gang
You tryina play around with me and my, me and my, me and my
Me and my rich gang
Prove you’s a b*tch maine, f*cking with the young stunners
n*gga you f*cking with the young stunners
n*gga you f*ck around with the rich gang, we prove that you a b*tch mane
And have your mammy picking out your funeral fit mane
Stop f*ckin with it, before we spit a bit
Do you in, hit you up with the mac 10
You and your can, shouts out to mac 10
n*gga that’s my n*gga, make a n*gga do a backspin
If you play with Jack Dem
Me and my rich gang
You got me f*cked up with my rich gang
Ain’t nothing for us to proove that you a b*tch mane
Playing around your mom will be picking your funeral fit mane
[Outro: Birdman & Mack Maine]
Uptown rich n*gga
Come from the slums with it
This n*gga there, I see you n*gga
We ouchea getting it
Mastermind this whole game plan
This money poppin
Off the floor
It’s yo room floor
Marbles floors and chandeliers
Nig broke
20 on b*tches, ya heard?
Leggo
Call game stupid
This game is stupid
Money game to the ceiling
Grind no end, it’s just life
Flashy lifestyle every day
Hundred in the right pocket
Scrap under
Livin life
Bring the bottles
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net