Bleu Davinci - In My Sleep lyrics

rate me

ft Pusha T, Bun B, Calico Jones

[Hook: Calico Jonez]

Hundred bands, I can get it 'fore the sunrise

Took the brick out the water like it's baptized

Every day I got the change going black flips

Ain't no mint in the garden, blowing that piff

I moved a couple ki's, I did it in my sleep

You want the Larry Bird? Come with 33

Every time I wake up, it's time for me to re-up

Every time I look up, I got another cook up

[Verse 1: Sheek Louch]

Say hello to the bad guy, Donnie G, smell that weed aroma when I pass by

Hat low, mad how I'm coming out the liquor store

Belches on the Henny floor

White girl, cut up straw, fingers on that .44

You ain't got that hood love that I got

We be clapping, moving cake, I ain't talking bout IHOP

Calling funerals and wakes, you get murdered on my block

All the pull-up bars and weights, we in shape -- well, why not?

Now I'm a four Donnie, Rose and 'gnac is constantly poured

We having fun, your chick with you is constantly bored

We throw that money up, you faggots watch it hit the floor

It's landing on her back, book bag hundred sack

You ain't got the dough for that

Card shark, we mark a black

Told shorty with the big old ass

Come here, make it clap

She won't get off my lap, hands don't come off the map

It's D-Block, he cock, you don't want none of that

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Pusha T]

Yeah, dope dealing, four-wheeling, no feeling like

Top billing, milk white, no ceiling like

The hands of God bout to touch me, I done seen the light

Double dutch one brick, make you see it twice

Pyrex on that stove, ready rocking them o's

MIA to ATL, we steady popping them hoes

They steady clocking them hoes, they pussy popping on poles

You take her home, you love that bitch, we throwing dollars at yours

Yeah, this that fast money, stash money

Fish scale shit, I think I caught a bass money

You from the talk-a-lot era, where you flash money

I'm from that Keith Sweat era, make it last money, gone

[Verse 3: Bleu Davinci]

I'm a fucking beast, a living legend

In the trap, that 14 cutting up a seven

I had a four-way, worked it off my 2-way

Nigga don't pay Monday, dead Tuesday

I'm a trap genius, I'm a trap lord

Bitch, I'm in the sky soaring, G4

Fuck it, G6; nigga, we keep the trap, booming

Try to move on the block, got the street sweeper shooting

Bunch of young niggas round me, nigga we eating

Let one of them yell "Swish," niggas bleeding

Baking soda, check; Pyrex, got it

Cooking up a ki, rip game polished

Trapping in my sleep, Jay doing back flips

Niggas trying to rob, hundred round mac clips

Get the work and dip, call that shit the give and go

Go to sleep pushing work, still selling blow

[Hook]

[Verse 4: Bun B]

One man's dream is another man's nightmare

The shit that some people do for money will give you white hair

Run up on your whip, the pistol quicker than a light, yeah

Take what you worked hard for and leave your ass right there

Everybody wanna be a baller and a G

With green by the pound and white by the ki

The cars and the clothes and the hoes on your d

All gravy til them killers at your front door for a fee

Ooo-wee, that's when real shit gets even realer

When that shot burn chest and I ain't talking bout tequila

With holes in your fancy clothes and blood on your gators

And ho you used to fuck with is laid up with your haters

It's cold outside and I ain't talking about degrees

I'm talking bout when rabbit-ass niggas want your cheese

You think you can run up on the trill -- nigga, please

I leave the top of your wig on the bottom of my 3's, bitch

[Hook]