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lirik lagu 100 years in the duffle – smoke dza

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[intro: smoke dza]
really
turn me up some
turn the music up
yeah
[?]
uh

[verse 1: smoke dza]
narcotics, whole lotta heat like dragić
i’m in the streets like for real, you blog it
i put a bag on your head like a hostage
’bout it (uh), hate a grown man that gossip (uh)
givin’ my old swag, they gon’ jock it
i left that in 2012 with phone ‘posits
put the bugatti frames on my eyelids (woo)
playa n*gga, no polish (woo)
a box is mean, no mileage
should hold it down in my knowledge (uh)
real ones move in silence
lucid dreams, back with my [?]
[?] g from the pilot
his tp, owe me a solid
[scoop?] my young joints from a college
her and her girlfriend lit (and her girlfriеnd lit), i let ’em both split the polе
i told you bad luck don’t exist (bad luck don’t exist)
i made enough off the flip (uh)
you got f*cked off the bricks (uh)
off point chasin’ p*ssy (really)
n*gga, i [?] the b*tch
power of the flower (uh)
value of the dollar
loyalty kept me in situations
common sense she took me out of
my cousin made a mill off arizona
back in the 90s chucks was eddie bauer
i’m talkin’ pre*9/11, before the planes hit the towers
[verse 2: slayter]
i get the bread and break it with my people
i’m high in the b*tch, just look at my pupils
my young n*gga beat you, i let him abuse you
these n*ggas is little b*tches like they poodles
[?] came from ramen noodles
i be outside, you at home watchin’ hulu
for fifty blue hunnids my young n*gga’ll shoot you
if you gettin’ money i gotta salute you
there’s a lot of aroma, no college diploma
packs from arizona, we brothers like zoners
just hit your b*tch, caught the neck, that’s a bonus
yeah, that b*tch bad on the ‘gram, but she homeless
bracin’ that nissan, ballin’ like keyshawn
i hit the b*tch and i throw her the peace sign
fiends always hit me whenever they need some
i told her to hit up a friend for that threesome (lord)

[verse 3: nym lo]
pull up to the check, it’s nothin’ on my neck
ab in my sweats (cash), i don’t want nothin’ but a check
harlem n*gga, what the f*ck did you expect? (got me)
big horses on my chest (pop), pop champagne corks all in the vest (sh*t)
i’m from the side of town where n*ggas ride around, make you a mural if you flex
we don’t do the disrespect (nuh*uh)
don’t give a f*ck who was in your set
shooters at your neck, blues give me a check (bandits)
got that ’92 [?] kobe vest under
i’ma keep gettin’ this loaf ’til next summer
just like i did last winter ’cause i’m that n*gga (ah)
trap n*gga turned rap n*gga (facts)
and i passed on shorty, got her friend ’cause her ass bigger
[verse 4: jayy grams]
(yeah, lord)
cash getter, he put together the play like a coach
i’m the hitter in cmg with the thang in the coat
oh, you pickin’ your favorite, i’ll make an arrangement with the coach
she said she could swallow the whole thing and then she choke, woah (uh)
the hardest [?] findin’ me is harder than findin’ nemo
now all the trolls tryna clock me like chino
[?] n*gga, get a brick like he deebo
i’ma pull up in all black, i ain’t emo
your man’s a fiend, he could sniff a whole kilo
but i ain’t trippin’
work was unreal, now that’s science fiction
they ain’t even realized that the guy was missin’
alchemist totin’ full metal, aye, go get the shovel, i’m through being mellow with you
n*gga, you dance and your broadie upstairs so i guess they gon’ meet up in heaven with you
have a issue, got a calculater
you a dark knight, then i’ma douse you later
old games, yo, without the sega
i need 5 g’s like i got the data
yeah, yeah, b*tch