Dave East - Momma Workin lyrics

rate me

(Intro)

Everythin' in the bag nigga, everythin' man

Bag all this shit up

My moms comin' home at like 11 B, we gotta get the fuck up out of here

We can't be here when moms come in the crib, my nigga. Word

(Verse)

Yo, this shit depressin', 3 to 6 for Smith and Wesson, on Ryker's Island

Them hoes was tellin' get their best friends, they need protection

I seen the D's, they played the roof out

It's time to move out, the block hot, don't bring the Coop out

I'm in the new shit, Balenciaga and a blue fit

We throwin' parties, these bitches swimmin' got the pool lit

I bagged up eight balls ova green, no need for pool sticks

I'm sick of Chinese, close up shop, let's head to Ruth's Chris

Connect Jamaican, I'm the reason for that last breath ya takin'

And fuck this paper, we throw it like we just graduated

Started in a Pathfinder, then I had to navigate it

We ain't had much, my uncle said 'Use yo imagination'

Took it and ran wit it, pieces out the pot let the fan hit it

Sit 'em on the plate and get the gram chippin'

I ain't feelin' these niggas, it's like my hand's missin'

My man's switchin' but fuck it, I guess we ran different

Hand to hand pitchin', Deegan or we Van Wyck'in

West side of FDR, neva bag, I rarely borrow

Thoughts of runnin' up in houses like the mask of Zoro

I had to go pick up some paper, I'll be back tomorrow

(Hook x2)

Baggin' up, knockin' the purple tape

Outside all night, my moms was workin' late

I gotta go get it because it hurt to wake

I don't talk about much, some shit it hurt to say

(Verse 2)

I paid 50 for the smoke pack, 40 for that brown bitch

I'm bout to make the town flip, I'm always where they smoke at

Three dykes drinkin' in a school zone, a couple hammers

Young dirty ghetto children, we ain't had no fuckin' manners

I luv my grandma, that's my mother twin

Couldn't shit for days, eatin' that cheese from the government

Talk clear round here papi, no time for stutterin'

Fiends like I just can not believe it's not butterin'

Stutterin', went back to basics

Xannies had me trapped in the matrix

When my mother told me ya have to make it just for brother's sake

If ya sell crack, what ya think he goin' sell

If ya go to jail, where ya think he goin', focus up

Still baggin' burner tips, pull-up bar, work the dips

I had to work the bench before I got my startin' spot

Straight out of Harlem like Suge Knight for that parkin' spot

Knockin' Biggie, wish I could talk to Pac, get off the block

(Hook)