Pots And Pans ( Featuring J Rock ) - Rick Ross
Page format: |
Pots And Pans ( Featuring J Rock ) Lyrics
It's what I'm talkin' 'bout right here, Ross
This make it worthwhile and we ***
Triple see'sAll I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans
Little ice, I do what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
*** that, I'm gettin' out the hoodAll I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans
Little ice, I do what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
*** that, I'm gettin' out the hoodWhat started as a nickel rock
Took 22 months, now I'm tryna get a block
*** football, I'm goin' down another path
Couldn't past the test, to tell the truth
I couldn't *** with MathDid get a scholarship but I blew that
Got high, got a ticket and I flew back
To the hell zone, most straps stand 20 shell toes
Get life on yo' cell phoneQuarter *** box of soda, Ross whip that
Career criminal, fo' sho' Ross with that
Had to pull my pants up, boy, get them brands up
Daddy died from cancer, I never had the chance toTell him all my plans to let him *** a danca
Smokin' *** in Amsterdam with his grandson
Damn, why he passed on me? My last homie
I went and bought a bird ***, I want some cash, homieAll I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans
Little ice, I do what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
*** that, I'm gettin' out the hoodAll I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans
Little ice, I do what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
*** that, I'm gettin' out the hoodI never wrote a n*** coat tail
Made her took a dope self, *** it, *** oh, wells
Smokin' on that classified, rollin' in that 'Lac of mine
You know my mind stay numb to the world half the timeThinkin' 'bout Land Rover, damn that was f*** up
Found him in the trunk with another dude f*** up
The world f*** up, that's why I'm f*** up
Don't get f*** up, f*** with me, ya f*** upB***, I'ma ride, b***, I'ma die
When I holla 305, b***, that's on my life
We got a 40 in the car, a choppa in the crib
The grenades down the streets, you gotta get it how you liveI know n*** turn 1 into 2
And they do what they do and boy, them thangs move
Fish scale get the big mail
In the room full of work in case they came when they inhaleAll I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans
Little ice, I do what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
*** that, I'm gettin' out the hoodAll I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans
Little ice, I do what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
*** that, I'm gettin' out the hoodIt's time for me to cash in laughin'
Like Martin in the Aston Martin
When I park it, I can see ya b*** heart beat
So roll out the red carpetRoll up the purple s***, black Navigator flew
Gotta shut ya f*** mouth, don't irritate the smooth
Thinkin' of a greater way to build a greater flow
I hope she got some great ***, that's how I grade a ***White Beamer in the hood shinin' like a star
Flip this half a ***, go to the club and I'ma buy the bar
Do it twice a week, f*** b*** on the other nights
Promise E Class, we'll never miss another fightHundred in the bag, 5 birds, I'ma grab
Turn 'em into 8, keep me a clean half
Bakin' soda in the work works wonderful
You see your dreams come true, this I promise youAll I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans
Little ice, I do what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
*** that, I'm gettin' out the hoodAll I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans
Little ice, I do what I can
Chick at home sayin' I'm no good
*** that, I'm gettin' out the hood
Songwriters
ROBERTS, WILLIAM / BORGES, JEANPublished by
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd. Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.