Letras Count Your Ones - Fiend, Boss Playa

Count Your Ones

Uh, bounce uh uh
Bounce uh uh uh
Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce
Still live but I want shit liva
Things hot but I want things hotter
I gets high but I like to gets higher
Forever hustlin' don’t ever wanna retire
All my killers (Bust ya guns, bust ya guns)
All my dealers (Count ya ones, count ya ones)
All my bitches (Catch that cum, catch that cum)
And all my niggas say (We ain’t leavin' till we get some)
Bitches say my niggas be lowdown
In the game where niggas get broke down
Smellin' like a pine, police put me on the ground
Mama tellin' me to slow down
They wanna put me in the jailhouse
Hoes wanna give me that good mouth
Gettin' so high, leanin' to the side, me and my homies smoked out
We real like Ewing, 25 years, 6 months and 7 days
First day we get out, got rocks in our mouth
Cause nothin' pays like crime pays
It’s no excuse, keep rappers real loose
And I’m slangin' both they sisters
Took his wife and ran up in her, even took they mama out to dinner
In the limo with that babbage, smokin' on some of that good shit
Haters all out to try me, I be packin' that thang with two clips
That’s deuce sick, I like em' thick, brown, yellow, or redbone
If you ever need some dick call Abel on the phone
Niggas wanna start that bullshit, well go ahead with that fool clip
The way we floss, the way we shine got chu' niggas lookin' stupid
We ruthless, no talkin' bitch let’s do this
My left and right fists bust lips and you get em' off nigga to this
Gettin' paid like we Jewish, gettin' laid like we do flips
Police raids like we move bricks but we too legit and too quick
This D.A. lookin' foolish
We next in line to shine bitch, bogardin' with that iron shit
My nine’ll leave you spineless, get back or leave you mindless
It’s Mr. Kane the scientist, next time I do you tryin' this
Cause my flow is relentless, that’s why I drive expensive
On these haters like suspension but try to go against this
You can’t win or beat in
I’m goin' for that neck like a pit in a dog fight
The battle’s not a hype and ya shit sounds alright
I’m not a killer I’m a dealer, get cha' fuckin' mind right
It’s a shame my niggas be shiesty, in a game where niggas step lightly
Hoes don’t like me, niggas wanna fight me, gettin my dick sucked nightly
Po-po wanna know where the dope at, I wanna know where the smoke at
In the car at the store, lookin' for the Trojans
Tryin' to fuck some hoodrat
Judge say «Son why you do that», now ya gotta go and do five flat
Next time I catch you slangin' crack, I’ma have to send you right back
It’s like that but it’s like this, life in the fast lane die quick
No matter where you from, bust ya guns, when niggas bout that real shit