Al-Doe - Blue Room lyrics

rate me

Chorus:

(Until I feel you)

Yeah, ten groupies grown, my jury fuck and go

Even customs know we get it by the mother low

Bang bitches, I gotta count some dough

I need that check for choppers, screw that baby, suck it slow!

Slow, slow, slow

All she’s doing is blow, blow, blow

All she’s doing is smoke, smoke, smoke

Bitches, all we do is smoke, smoke, blow

She get it popping in the Blue Room

Easy on that blue bottle, what are you doing?

Uh, I talk shit, but seek money flowing

School her hard or not, I watch it throw it!

Straight round… on the shakers

Laughing at these niggas while they’re throwing aces

My nigga, I’ll be fresher up on a daily basis

That money got me making ..faces

Uh, Rose, Perrier by the cases

..on my shit… on my rollies

..on my shit, is big business, bitch!

Chorus:

(Until I feel you)

Yeah, ten groupies grown, my jury fuck and go

Even customs know we get it by the mother low

Bang bitches, I gotta count some dough

I need that check for choppers, screw that baby, suck it slow!

Slow, slow, slow

All she’s doing is blow, blow, blow

All she’s doing is smoke, smoke, smoke

Bitches, all we do is smoke, smoke, blow

I’m the thrill above thrills, gone with the wind

I’m getting mills upon mills

With my ride… she popping hills upon hills,

I got hills upon hills.. county

I make her roll up like wheels

That ..that we smoke, man, stronger than some choke slams

Should the other take a tomb, stone me yes..

More OZs, cute Bs and LBs

Keep my eyes on the dream, and both prologue dreams

A hundred wishes and counting

Hundred bitches, that’s about it

… a couple saying it’s crowded

Telling that hoe above her some words I never say

Tell a suck a dick, a dick is something worth of Juicy J

Chorus:

(Until I feel you)

Yeah, ten groupies grown, my jury fuck and go

Even customs know we get it by the mother low

Bang bitches, I gotta count some dough

I need that check for choppers, screw that baby, suck it slow!

Slow, slow, slow

All she’s doing is blow, blow, blow

All she’s doing is smoke, smoke, smoke

Bitches, all we do is smoke, smoke, blow

Sin city in the backroom

I’ll be scoring when they count nine… you’re in!

My reputation is silent, heard I’ve been talking white

Hot tubs, cigars, and Rihanna looking like

They’re looking twice, Louis Vuitton…

Missing flights, oversleep, and nigga this is the life

Hustle, the hood is a lot faster

…party swearing, young masters

Blue face, nigga, I used to be broke, but now it’s a different day

Passport stamps, like a pretty G, huh!

Cush blunts with dizzy, that’s after dinner

Watch them bitches in my place, counting cash, but chase, nigga

Chorus:

(Until I feel you)

Yeah, ten groupies grown, my jury fuck and go

Even customs know we get it by the mother low

Bang bitches, I gotta count some dough

I need that check for choppers, screw that baby, suck it slow!

Slow, slow, slow

All she’s doing is blow, blow, blow

All she’s doing is smoke, smoke, smoke

Bitches, all we do is smoke, smoke, blow