No Sleep Gang Lyrics

No sleep gangAnnotate, insomnia gang
We out here trafficking, that mean I'mma find me a lane
You wanna be celebrities, you remind me of lames
But I got bars, when I'm through selling these, I'mma buy me some fame
All about that mulah holla, I'm a Rottweiler with an iced out collar
Prada frames, Long Beach top shotta
I don't count on niggas but I might count dollars
I don't count on hoes but I might count dollars
I don't count on haters but I might count
Bottles in the VIP when the club turn the lights out
I'm on the white couch yelling out
Bang bang bang, no sleep gang
Bang bang bang, no sleep gang
OG man, how the dope fiends came
Get em so hooked, call a dope T-Pain
Cardo on the beat, then it's no keychain
Push to start, then a Crook to park
Seats vibrate when the dope beat bang

Drank the sip, nigga kush to spark[Chorus]
Bang bang bang, no sleep gang
Bang bang bang, no sleep gang
Bang bang bang, nigga no sleep gang
Fuck sleep, get that money my nigga
Fuck sleep, get that money my nigga
Fuck sleep, get that money my nigga
Fuck sleep, get that money my nigga
Fuck sleep, get that money my nigga
Smoke in the club, roll that up
Drank in the club, pour that up
Haters in the club, so damn what
If it don't make money then it don't add up
No sleep gang, roll that up
No sleep gang, throw that up
No sleep gang, throw that up
If it don't make money then you don't add upHouse in the hills, thousands and mill's
Getting wild in the field with your spouse in Brazil
On ounces and pills, how does it feel?
To count dollar bills, to count dollar bills
(X2)No sleep gang, insomnia gang
Raised by some O dogs, that's why I polly with 'caine
They pushed rock in the 90's, they remind me of Dame
Hundred on the dash, Jordan's on the gas
Pull the top back while I'm sliding through the lanes
Yelling bang bang bang, no sleep gang
Bang bang bang, no sleep gang
Do-si-do with a ho he claim
In the low-key mode, know she throw me brain
And I know she know, chain and the cross
C.O.B, I'm the COB gang boss
Bitch threw a molly in her own champagne
This time around y'all can't blame Ross
Momma told me I couldn't behave
To that dollar was Crooked a slave
Now I'm a master, fly right past ya
Louis Vuitton sneakers one foot in the grave
But before I die let me tell you this
I'mma ball on you niggas, I can tell your pissed
Talk about I took your wife out all night
Nigga don't tell me, homie tell your bitch[Chorus]Bang bang bang, no sleep gang
(x4)
Songwriters
RONALD LATOUR, DOMINICK WICKLIFFEPublished by
Lyrics © THE ADMINISTRATION MP, INC.