Bad Lucc - Gimme More lyrics

rate me

Ft. Problem & Skeme

(Verse: Bad Lucc)

I need mine, the green packs are betta, BS yeah that

BL, Mr. Lucc, 354, DL

Mhmm! I'm a G, see em like don't push 'em

I need that, 8-8 with the kush in, I need that stare

I need that McLaren for what you're wearin', piggy

(What? I need the Rollses with the deauces homie)

I see ya my nigga, I need that cannon for the boosters

Who tryin' to do us, don't do it

I need me a reason to turn a nigga into a circle

My blood hands'll hurt ya!

Niggas that wanna be that I murk ya, it's shmurda

Turn fist fights to funerals, services'll merge ya

Pig! (Now go and handle it!) Fuck it i'm on my candle shit!

Light up the room, I need em keys and the hammers bitch

Need me a pack and the rizzles roll up a candle stick

I get high, start puttin' my hands on shit

Please, I need G's! Rule nigga fuckin' fo' cheese, I need e's

High outta my mind pisses the palm trees

Word to my nigga Skeme, I need mine, the C.R.E.A.M

(Hook 1)

The hard top, bad bitches

Bags of money next to this shit, I need sixes

I need mines, got asap, capische?

Long as money's spinnin' weed, yeah man

(Verse 2: Problem)

Yeah, respect, nigga, off top!

When I pull up in that new-new, comfy with the soft top

My bitch got the 30 inch Indian with the door knocks in the ear

And the rear's much bigger than what yo hoe got, bro

Gotta know I ain't showin' you niggas mercy

Foot up on the pedal, still watching out for 'em thirsties

No gimmicks, no limits, Master P but I ain't Percy

I ain't fearin' no man, cuz only Jesus can murk me

So I'm out here, movin', fuck sleepin', keep the coverts, bitch

Ten toes dancin', you can miss me with that sucka shit

Rollie told me, "Prob', you gotta stay up on yo hustle tip"

"Fuck friends, fuck chillin', and last off, fuck a bitch!"

Man dough, got too much, I got the hand oh

Niggas switch on me, the money keep blending ann voke

Homie down, it's only the world go round

I ain't askin', I'm takin', I'll kill with the kindy sound, waaa

(Hook 2)

Big houses, the bock with 'em couches

That new Chris Lu shit, Louie Vuitton vouchers

Emilio Pucci, Gucci, my niggas outchaied

G5 fo' eva, I'm bout that, uh!

(Verse 3: Scheme)

It go one two three four five, I goes live

I heard the game a bitch, guess who's tryna go inside?

Unless you talkin' paper, your convos get no reply

No time to socialize with none o' u local guys

It's real in the field, you wouldn't know if the pound right

Won't talk to broke niggas, now I'm high side?!

But me? You know I could give a fuck

Just keep my pockets fillin', drop that bit more in my cup

Got these bitches turnt up and a couple deals I turned down

My eyes on 'em dollas and I ain't neva turn around

Angle war rapper, habitualised stepper

You pussy rappers act like benjies, crown stressers

Type o' niggas out with a bullet when it was play time

No iPhone, but still these hoes gimme face time

Hustle hard, nigga, what the fuck is break time?

Either give it up or I'mma take mine

Hell, nigga!

(Hook 3)

Time Ford lenses, max in the Benzes

Kush by the barrel, look down, my crew get it

All about the dolla, these bitches gon' come wid it

'Long as you can get it, I'm wid it, yeah!