J.I.D - Surround Sound (feat. 21 Savage & Baby Tate)
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Lyrics
Putting rap on my back, and I'm blackin', snatchin' crowns
I know I can't afford to stop for one moment
That it's too soon, too far-
Me and my money attached emotionally
I get to clutchin' if you get too close to me
I'm at the top where I'm 'posed to be
Jumped in the game, niggas act like they coaching me
Four hundred racks ain't shit but a show to me
I'm on the road and I bet that your ho with me
When I'm in traffic, it's always a pole with me
Pillsbury man, I keep dough with me
Hit from the back, she giving me slurp, and I ain't even pull my pants down
Jump in the box and slide to the other side, it's always a man down
Draw down, hands in the air, nigga, make one move, get gunned down
Giving out smoke so long, they don't even wanna talk no more, just run now
No locked doors, I serve with a chop
Bitch got spent, she was hanging with an opp
We call him Mickey, he talks to the cops
I was on panda, glass in the sock
Back in the day, I invest in the block
Fast-forward, now I'm investing in stocks
I put a drum on the Heckler and Koch
Don't play 'cause I'm very invested in shots
Push the fucking pack off of the porch or break a pound down
Get this strap, if it happen to blow, it makes surround sounds
Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town down
Putting rap on my back, and I'm blackin', snatchin' crowns
Pu-pu-pussy cat in his face 'cause he stay off Cheshire Bridge
Then I took it back, now he sayin' that he shakin' and he shiverin'
Like the way it taste, and he ain't ate it in a minute
They call me Yung Baby, but I still got hella chil-
Talk shit, run that motherfuckin' crown, you bitch
You motherfuckin' bitch
Uh, shit
Sorry in advance for my bros
They'll whoop a nigga ass, what you whippin' up? (Whoa)
JID in the bag, if you lookin' for that dope
Niggas got it in the bag, 'cause we trappin' on the low
And I'm the shit with the flow, huh, give me a joke
Heard a nigga say that you the next? No, no, no
I'm the best, tell 'em bitches stop the motherfuckin' press
Press stop, fuck a top-five list, get 'em a vest, he get lopsided
Fuck the cops, we was runnin' from Rottweilers
Most of my partners ain't have poppa, just a popped condom
Couple kids with Alzheimer's, .40 on his side
Boy you Mike Alstott, he on the block violent
Robbin' niggas in the hood and then swap genres
Green light, line a nigga up, stop sign him
Keep drivin', you will not find him
I'm a, I'm a, I'm a normal anomaly, I turned into a rapper ironically
And ran the bag up, back up, niggas is onto me
Niggas should honor me, if you think that I'm a wannabe
It's pretty comedy, I'm melancholy and cool
So calmly bustin' moves, my truths carry velocity
Same posse since OshPosh B'gosh, pussy clart
Treat the rap like I'm pushin' rock
On the stove with the Pyrex pot
The door stay locked, it don't say knock
We on they block, we own they block
It's Monopoly games, we stole they properties
Smooth talkin' and moonwalkin', same lil' niggas
Small pond, but a pool shark, I aim, big stick
Knock, chalk off cue balls, bang this shit
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang
Ah, ha-ha-ha-ha!
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