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bill cosby - mg sleepy, jay juice & tse vic lyrics

[verse 1: mg sleepy]
i said, thirty racks on me and some real diamonds
b*tch i know you f*cking with the opps, you getting k!lled by ’em
b*tch i can’t take care of your kids, i got a real toddler
n*gga locked for s*xual assault, like who you bill cosby?
my aunty hit the bag, but she a real zombie
i don’t give a f*ck how much i’m up, b*tch i’ll still rob you
i said my n*gga over west inside the kitchen doing real science
b*tch i see you staring at my gun, just don’t get k!lled by it (alright)
i said b*tch, you staring at my gun, just don’t get k!lled by it
b*tch you know we sending n*ggas up, you n*ggas still fightin’
really? the score like five to one, them n*ggas still lying
i said i front my sting a cutie on the first, hе gave me $690
i said, b*tch i ain’t count this money, so it’s still sloppy
i said i’m finna buy a wondеr suit, i feel like rick bobby
i said i’ii take the extras off your p and make a zip out it
b*tch i never graduated school and then i skipped college
n*gga, quit telling me be humble, i’m a sh*t popper
i said n*gga, quit calling me your brother, b*tch i’m big uncky
i said you better watch the sh*t you say, i don’t take sh*t lightly
and if a n*gga tryna send it up, b*tch it’s just a bl!ck by me

[verse 2: jay juice]
b*tch, he cheap as f*ck, he wearing ripped nikes
if you ain’t got at least a ten, then you can’t sit by me
my n*gga reese, he like the four by, he caught a big body
i got this b*tch on me, don’t call me lil’ dej, but let a b*tch try me
b*tch ain’t double g’s, that n*gga joy riding
i said buy sumn’ and put my tab on it, ’cause i need more profit
b*tch i feel like james harden, i got a whole rocket
if any n*gga disrespect again, we finna scope out it (i said)
and i done woke up with a wh0re by me
he don’t wan’ link up with the juice, he doing more typing
my pretty b*tch done caught my pretty b*tch and now my wh0res fighting
i said i’m knocked, but i got caught up with my b*tch, did some more lying
b*tch, my sting owe me, i’m finna short ryan (i said)
hit a n*gga in his sh*t and it’s a four*fiver
i see him walk in asking for a friend, i closed the door behind him
i get it in, i’m selling h*lla za, i’m catching more biters
[verse 3: tse e2]
b*tch, spent twenty thousand on some more diamonds
the boys done came and hit the crib, i need the door tightened
[?] den brought the striker out, i’m in a joy*rider
and why my baby moms just hit my other b*tch and now my wh0res fighting
b*tch, i’m finna oop this n*gga score by me
b*tch quit acting like you tough, b*tch you a broke liar, b*tch
i bullied you in school and upped the four*fiver
and b*tch i’m on the main, i’m fl!cking out the whip and i got bro driving
this [?] in my leaf, i’ii leave you dead by it
put on some all white 1’s and now they red nikes
and i just met a pretty b*tch, we in the bed fighting
up a gun and grab my nike ski and hit you dead silent (i said)
like who can f*ck with e? n*ggas be dead trying
i’m in the scat, i’m switching lanes, i got my leg driving
knuckle up, then i’ma up a gun, gon’ be a dead*
i’m on the ave, i’m throwing up the 3, b*tch i’m a real sniper

[verse 4: tse vic]
come on
these rap n*gga cheap, they wearing lab diamonds
i went to [?] off the 30, i’m a real shiner
watch, chain and cartier’s hit hard, don’t need a flash or lighter
blow your mind and tell you what i say, but i’ma keep it quiet (hmm)
just pulled up srt, you hear the engine growling
fore’ i chase a b*tch, cut my hair or go climb a mountain (alright)
i like to pop a lot of sh*t for the ones who doubted
f*ck ten to twenty, i’ll show your ass a hunnid thousand
more money, more problems, i ain’t tripping i could solve em
tryna jump fresh and now he clean in the coffin
you better learn to keep it quiet n*ggas die for all that talking
caught a opp some lil’ [?], they no biting, all barking, n*gga
[verse 5: 10ta lil a]
i told bro to shut his mouth, he just talking
get to running down, then hit a turn around and start walking
i ain’t finna leave the crib unless i got a swerve calling
let a n*gga touch a chain, i’m throwing shots, i’m not brawling
finna run for president, they need to put me in the office
brodie pulled up in a scatty, finna swing the doors off it
like i ain’t even hit the b*tch, like lil’ bro just stop calling
seen a rapper in a cheesy kit, these n*ggas out here fake ballin’
i just stuffed it in my pocket, i ain’t even got no wallet
in the stu with h*lla j, it’s real water like a faucet
if you ain’t talkin’ ’bout no money, why the f*ck you even talking?
and i’m with the motion gang, i put a hunnid in my closet
and if i didn’t hit the b*tch, i bet my dawg did
popped a perc and woke up in the bed, was with the wrong b*tch
and don’t compare me to n0body, ’cause i smoke sh*t
and way before this rapping sh*t, we used to hit l!cks
in the hood it’s sleep swinging the track, he on some fried sh*t
this n*gga juice just spilt his whole cup, he tryna fight vic

- mg sleepy jay juice tse vic lyrics

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