[Verse 1: Danny!]
Nothing left to prove
So I'mma hit you with something thats extra smooth
And I'mma give you a muffin with extra blue
Berries necessary but you can pick them off
That euphemism was lost
Never take what I say at face value
Marinate it, what I say, it may wow you
Levitate, dont let negative space around you
Feeling good, feeling great, how are you?
Feeling good, feeling great, how are you?
Still in the hood building eight, tower two
Pilates with my gal-pal
Spending royalty checks I got from Bow-Wow
Ghostrider diseur on a world tour with Zsa Zsa Gabor
Think I'll prank call Akon and Lady Gaga some more
Nah, nah, you boring them
Catch me in Manhattan in the Prada emporium
My chick gotta sick shoe game
But her hips too thick for the hoop chain
Mayne, I put it on the Jenny Craig
Diet, hire a private eye from Winnipeg
I catch her slipping, then her food's mine
Instead of steak, feed her limes, like Gertrude Stein
And she'll be back normal in no time
[Verse 2: Paris Artelli]
Artelli
Pass the mic and I'mma running class
We ain't running with you niggas, we just running past
It's all work, I'm hustling like I'm running fast
Ferricelli, past these niggas 'bout to feel my wrath
I got a girl on each arm nigga do the math
Walk and look booked bitch dig my fashion
Don't phone, I'm higher than them lumberjacks
So cold, hotter than a summer class
Swing, let me hit em with the four-one
Tell these grocery-bagging niggas in the store: run
Fuck em all, haters see me but they dont speak
Fuck em all, cause I'm probably in the boutique
Flip two beats, get new sneaks
Watch some ?, with a new freak
Goddamn, we fucking up the new sheets
And my momma proud of me
Abstract kid in that modern art gallery
Overseas remixes just for the salary
Hoping niggas on the phone trying to tell me shit
My momma on the other line trying, yelling shit
HD frames, closed door steez
I'm hungry so I'm killing beasts for this grilled cheese
We getting bread, I'm on my stronger shit
And I know that you feel this, fuck you talking bout Willis?
That Gary Coleman shit, I'm on a roll and shit
Taking roll and shit, you should believe in me
Got my 120 shades you ain't seeing me
Every chick you follow is up tweeting me
Holla...
Nothing left to prove
So I'mma hit you with something thats extra smooth
And I'mma give you a muffin with extra blue
Berries necessary but you can pick them off
That euphemism was lost
Never take what I say at face value
Marinate it, what I say, it may wow you
Levitate, dont let negative space around you
Feeling good, feeling great, how are you?
Feeling good, feeling great, how are you?
Still in the hood building eight, tower two
Pilates with my gal-pal
Spending royalty checks I got from Bow-Wow
Ghostrider diseur on a world tour with Zsa Zsa Gabor
Think I'll prank call Akon and Lady Gaga some more
Nah, nah, you boring them
Catch me in Manhattan in the Prada emporium
My chick gotta sick shoe game
But her hips too thick for the hoop chain
Mayne, I put it on the Jenny Craig
Diet, hire a private eye from Winnipeg
I catch her slipping, then her food's mine
Instead of steak, feed her limes, like Gertrude Stein
And she'll be back normal in no time
[Verse 2: Paris Artelli]
Artelli
Pass the mic and I'mma running class
We ain't running with you niggas, we just running past
It's all work, I'm hustling like I'm running fast
Ferricelli, past these niggas 'bout to feel my wrath
I got a girl on each arm nigga do the math
Walk and look booked bitch dig my fashion
Don't phone, I'm higher than them lumberjacks
So cold, hotter than a summer class
Swing, let me hit em with the four-one
Tell these grocery-bagging niggas in the store: run
Fuck em all, haters see me but they dont speak
Fuck em all, cause I'm probably in the boutique
Flip two beats, get new sneaks
Watch some ?, with a new freak
Goddamn, we fucking up the new sheets
And my momma proud of me
Abstract kid in that modern art gallery
Overseas remixes just for the salary
Hoping niggas on the phone trying to tell me shit
My momma on the other line trying, yelling shit
HD frames, closed door steez
I'm hungry so I'm killing beasts for this grilled cheese
We getting bread, I'm on my stronger shit
And I know that you feel this, fuck you talking bout Willis?
That Gary Coleman shit, I'm on a roll and shit
Taking roll and shit, you should believe in me
Got my 120 shades you ain't seeing me
Every chick you follow is up tweeting me
Holla...
( Danny Swain )
www.ChordsAZ.com