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check yo self - suga free & sporty gotti lyrics

[intro]
production by cricet

[verse 1: sporty gotti]
yo, i’m poppin’ the proposition, what this here gon’ be?
hustle over everything, b*tch, that’s h*o*e
say run my feed like, hey now, hey, say that’s me
conversation applied properly, that’s c*a*p (chiggy check)
got a snow bunny for show money that go for me
it ain’t no money like ho money, fo’ sho’, dummy
broke n*ggas, you look funny and dress bummy
i’m a loc, i came up in the game off dope money (chiggy check)
i campaign with cold game with no shame
i’m no lame, i blow flames at propane
i’m so fly, i’m so high, this soul plane
got a glock 9, cut on jam, he go bang (chiggy check)
i done pulled muscles tryna move a safе
i ran through bands just hopin’ i ain’t lose the case
ran fadеs in the county, had to bruise his face
stuck in the cell, thinkin’, “d*mn, i got moves to make” (chiggy check)
i don’t romance and hold hands, i’m ’bout bands
i go ham, i weigh grams, i make plans
304 with pink toes and no pants
slang cl*t and bust tricks with no hands (chiggy check)
deuce*deuce, i will shoot, the sh*t filthy
probably have to trade or sell it for 150
we can run a fade on gang, don’t f*ck with me
fresh up out the county, your b*tch gon’ come get me (chiggy check)
she been on my line, real pretty in the face
short hair, brown skin, real thick at the waist
i ran her that game, had to put the b*tch in place
she was movin’ too fast, told her, “hurry up and wait” (chiggy check) on god, told that b*tch, “hurry up and wait”
it’s some rules to the ism, couple moves we gotta make
i knocked a couple b*tches, they was choosin’ outta state
up early with the ism, n*ggas late (chiggy check)
[verse 2: suga free]
hit the play b*tton
pimp god said, “ho must be in pocket at all times
b*tch ain’t supposed to say nothin'”
suga free givin’ you the blues, n*gga
if i know this b*tch like i think i do
she ain’t remember nothin’ but you shoes (chiggy check)
funky worm the ho
create a b*tch and said, “how long was it when we did that dinosaur?”
i say about thirteen perms ago
she’s a don’t gun
b*tch, you can’t give no n*gga no p*ssy that don’t want none (chiggy check)
now you can’t size me up
if you tell a b*tch you gon’ do somethin’, do it or she gon’ try you up
it’s like a mirage page
y’all n*ggas still tryna figure these dumb b*tches out?
these b*tches don’t even appreciate what god did (chiggy check)
my name lattice
n*gga, this b*tch don’t want you or nothin’ you got
n*gga, she want your status
tattoo, and she pinched me quick
she was a bad mother, said, “who she belong to?”
they said mitchy sl!ck

[outro]
chiggy check
chiggy check

- suga free sporty gotti lyrics

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