Doughboyz Cashout

Doughboyz Cashout - Cut From A Different Cloth lyrics

rate me

(Hook)

Have you ever seen a hundred grand?

Scruffed in a duffle bag?

Have you ever seen coke, nigga?

Or look down at Teresa, seen the falls, nigga?

We cut from a different cloth

We cut from a different cloth

Why'd a nigga get lost?

There's no comparison,

We cut from a different cloth

(Verse)

We cut from a different cloth

Stones all in my big face

Shining all in your bitch face

Stop making today my sick day

Everyday my rich day

You niggas squirrel like a big shape(?)

Never seen no brick, though

Never had no crack spot, but you

Rap about that shit, though

Sit down on my patio

With a slim chick and a fattie, though

Reminisce of the old days, when I hear rock

In my old chains

Had a doze spat before a mustache

When I had a Coupe, you had a bus pass

I stood back while you cut grass

Teen mate away, I fuck fast

At a hotel with no bitch, though

Just a lot of work and my pistols

My cuz, though, tryna get flow

After this, though, I'mma get low

Serving killers all in the trenches

Ride up at the club, jumping out the Benz

I was in the game when you was riding bitches

Right then came to my car

Get away from my padded green

Used to fit, but fat done means(?)

My Benz is clean, that's real, mate,

With that amphetamine

Have these boys to sell the thing

Unless you come to sell a dream

We do it here, we lost niggas

Can't fuck with us

Our cloth different!

(Hook)

(Verse)

I don't play games, don't incite me!

Yeah, you rap and get cash, but you ain't like me

And we made 100 on set and runs

Came humble, seven guns

Luke already has six, nigga

All we drop is classics

You tripping, girl, you fucking with the hell, bitch!

Double rock, ask around, clean up that mill shit

Balls to the day, pretty smithy and the fence

That light is going red, he's got a black ass, go to jail

I shoot up them dumb asses, I be on that real shit

First, a person, (???)

...

So calm down, got a deal with them choppers, ease up hundred rounds

And if I got 'em going 'gain I sort of want them heard me

My man, Gatti a gangsta, show out to Betti,

You know where my niggas front

Don't approach where we hunt

You don't do the shit that I do, ballet ain't fucking cool!

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