Tag: Cool Whip


Famous Dex – Blue Chips (feat. Rich The Kid)


[Intro]
30 you a fool for this one
Ayy, ayy
Mike Dean you can’t do this to them man

[Chorus]
Stackin’ the green and the blue chips
My whip is white like Cool Whip
My wrist a pool, come take a dip
I’m running around with two chicken strips
I’m so up (I’m so up)
Double cup (Double cup)
Ac it up!
Can’t sit with us
Huh

[Verse 1: Famous Dex]
I’m on the jet
You can’t sit with us, it’s a bet (a bet)
We should add this back
I know the ac is bad
Fuck a lil’ bitch from the back
I heard she wack
You can get hit with the MAC
I do not handle that
I said my shooters gon’ handle that
(Huh, yeah, huh)
Sippin’ (huh)
I ain’t never trippin’ (huh)
Fuck yo bitch she missing (huh)
Call me Scottie Pippin
Ball like Scottie Pippin, money old
Lookin’ at my diamonds, yeah, your shit looking old (so old)
My diamonds are froze, your bitch on gold
Sniffin’ coca nose
I’mma keep it on the low, I ain’t gonna tell nobody (huh, yeah)
They don’t want me, you might catch a body
(Huh, yeah, huh, yeah, huh, yeah)
Extra body

[Chorus]
Stackin’ the green and the blue chips
My whip is white like Cool Whip
My wrist a pool, come take a dip
I’m running around with two chicken strips
I’m so up (I’m so up)
Double cup (Double cup)
Ac it up!
Can’t sit with us
Huh

[Verse 2: Rich The Kid]
Pour the ac out the freezer, pour a two liter
And now my bitch she need a visa, she is such a eater
Smoking cookie now, everything bust down
Rich forever, bitch we up now
You hatin’, we grindin’ ’till sundown!
Hol’ up
Fuck around, got rich, pockets so swole up (I’m rich)
When I get the Bentley back imma do a few donuts
You niggas so broke yeah
Gangster bitch she be tryna come over
Fuck her on the sofa
Rent girl be missing, put her on a poster
(Ooh)
Real big diamonds on me I can blind a bitch
Gucci, Givenchy, designer shit
Sniffinè the coke when she suck the dick
Bitch it ain’t nothing I pour a six
Ac come in, I sip it quick
These niggas be hating, I’m finally rich

[Chorus]
Stackin’ the green and the blue chips
My whip is white like Cool Whip
My wrist a pool, come take a dip
I’m running around with two chicken strips
I’m so up (I’m so up)
Double cup (Double cup)
Ac it up!
Can’t sit with us
Huh

[Outro]
30 you a fool for this one


Jim Jones – Kitchen

November 2, 2016

Lyrics

Comments Off on Jim Jones – Kitchen


[Jim Jones]
Vamp life
(I got that money)
You know what they say
Trap jumping
When it get to hot in the kitchen, uh
What you cooking? Chicken or fish?
(I don’t wanna hear you niggas talking about no more work)
How many pots on the stove?

[Hook: Cashout]
I got the money and I got the pack
(Got that pack)
I drop a deuce in then I bring it back
(Bring it right back)
Drop a four in it then drop [?]
They love when I be cooking up the blow
In the kitchen, I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
Yeah
I got the money and I got the sack
(Got that sack)
I drop a deuce in it then I bring it back
In the kitchen

[Verse 1: Jim Jones]
I got four pots going and a crock pot too
Cooked four quarters and I got back two
Want fishscale? And I got that too
But I’m dry right now
Nigga stop back through
Talking ’bout cooking the whiter shade
Nigga’s be using the microwave
They booked ’em and took ’em in right away
He might never see the light of day
The walls in my kitchen all yellow
So I put the coke in the fridge like it’s Jello
You know you got to guard the kitchen
So I keep shooters in New York like Carmello
I be cooking that shit like it’s Ruth Chris
Cooking that shit to a new whip
Look at that shit while I’m hitting that shit
Now I’m whipping that shit like its Cool Whip
Traffic, compression then stretch it
To buy it we don’t need to test it
If it ain’t about money don’t stress it
Put the Tec to a nigga like a message
Still cooking coke like five stars
Young dope boy with five cars
All cash nigga how be buy ours
Yeah we live fast and we die hard

[Hook]
I got the money and I got the pack
(Got that pack)
I drop a deuce in then I bring it back
(Bring it right back)
Drop a four in it then drop [?]
They love when I be cooking up the blow
In the kitchen, I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
Yeah
I got the money and I got the sack
(Got that sack)
I drop a deuce in it then I bring it back
In the kitchen

[Verse 2: Hell Rell]
Ruger!
Man I got the money and I got the pack
You know a Ruger to this little light-skinned bitch
He ain’t never gotta buy
(Hey baby)
All I gotta do is look at my shooter and he ‘gon pop the strap
Uptown with the mother-fuckin’ killers is where you’ll find me at
Might cook a whole brick with my gun on me
Shoot my old man if he run on me
Bury me in all gold
At least put a mother-fucking ton on me
Man these nigga’s ain’t living right
Don’t be suprised if you got a [?] homie
I brought some real money out tonight
In case niggas front on me
In my kitchen
I’m in love in my kitchen
When my hand start to itchin’ then them bricks get to flippin’
Bought a house with ten bathrooms, because I stay shittin’
Nigga’s look funny then my shooters start hittin’
(Hittin’)

[Hook]
I got the money and I got the pack
(Got that pack)
I drop a deuce in then I bring it back
(Bring it right back)
Drop a four in it then drop [?]
They love when I be cooking up the blow
In the kitchen, I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
Yeah
I got the money and I got the sack
(Got that sack)
I drop a deuce in it then I bring it back
In the kitchen

[Verse 3: Philthy Rich]
Uh-huh
It’s Philthy nigga
I do!
Look

I say now forty birds in my caravan
This forty on me got a kick-stand
I’m in love with the kitchen nigga
Tell the hoe do the dishes nigga
(Ay, clean up bitch!)
Two stoves and eight pots
Two niggas cooking eight blocks
The [?] from foot heels to [?] that’s eight blocks
In the kitchen like culinary
These nigga’s actors like Tyler Perry
Ain’t never move no kilos
Couldn’t find you one like Nemo
My whole hood been locked up for trafficking, doing life nigga
On 580 doing eighty nigga with an eighty pack of that white shit
Thirty-six and the whole whammy
In a cereal box stuffed in the cabinet
Right behind all the baking soda
If you cook it right you might take it over
Fish-scale, my lips sealed, I’ll never tell what I don’ seen
Bag it up, put a thousand grams on the triple-beam
(It’s Philthy)