Al-D - Mailman lyrics

rate me

f/ Mr. 3-2

(*talking*)

(*knocking on door*) who the fuck is it

(It's the mailman), about time you got here

(you got my money), yeah 250 dollas

(what the fuck is 250 dollas, say Fed-Ex

This Al-Ex, and I'm fin to execute your

Motherfucking ass, if you don't give me the

Rest of my god damn money)

(*screaming*)

[Hook]

I'm the mailman, I'm the mailman

I'm the mailman, sacks or stacks in my hand

I'm the mailman, I'm the mailman

I went from rags to riches, now you bitches can't understand

[Al-D]

I wonder if a nigga, wasn't down with this rap shit

Would I get the love and hugs, and all this dap shit

Signing autographs, no strap no mask

Now my trash in the past, ain't gotta worry bout the task

I got up off my ass, and mashed for my cash

Now his and her jacks, or own glass in the grass

I stash and stash, until I stretch mark the vault

And the pain from the game, made me gain with my chalk

I thought of this day, when the haters all knock

Now I'm getting props, from the same foul mouth

God damn, niggas ain't shit now-a-days

And bitches flock a nigga, when they see you getting paid

But like I got mine, you gotta get your's

I'm on my grind in the studio, as if it was chores

Now you look shook, and you don't understand

I went from rags to riches, bitches call me the mailman

[Hook - 2x]

[Al-D]

First I'll fuck my foes, and these money hungry hoes

Two-face niggas and bitches, hating to see me on toes

From the hood to every state, city, town and block

I'm infesting the intersection, with this uncut knot

Watch what you can't stop, don't knock cause we the shit

Third Coast smoke and toast, to this pimping G shit

Forever chasing cheddar, ass on leather

Dripping candy gripping wood, see we floss together

Living lavage with lavage, having straight to karats

Now we too damn established, in the eyes of the savage

We gon ball till we fall, hanging placks on the wall

Sipping drank and smoking dank, passing up the alcohol

Buy up the whole mall, invest and make mo'

G'd up head to toe, and keep our music playing slow

Third Coast my home, but I'm Southeast raised

Trying to increase my knot, and find a spot in the shade

[Hook - 2x]

[Mr. 3-2]

The mailman bitch, but I'm here to collect

Take my respect, make sure I get the right ones to check

You feeling me yet, I gotta get mine

Every nickel and dime, I stop niggas like stop signs

With glock 9's and barettas, it's whatever with me

The G-O-V, still throwing up S.U.C.

3-2 and Al-D, go and get it with no tussle

Working our muscle, living our life on the hustle

Wanting our albums, doing shows and features

When this deal go bad, I'ma have to delete ya

You wanna meet your up talk, with all the shedded dealing

I'm bout cash in my hand, brother how a nigga feeling

[Hook - 2x]

I'm the mailman