J.R. Writer - The Pit feat. Hell Rell & 40. Cal lyrics

rate me

J.R. Writer:

Holla

No sorrow, haze wrapped in a Tahoe

For all those who saw J smash the Apollo yikes

All covered in ice like I was standing in Times Square

On "The Day After Tomorrow" holla

I'm into bigger dough, sicker flow

Rocky dial (what) make it possible to Rocky-bow hit your hoe

I feel like Bigelow 'cause ever since I got the chirp number

All I been hearing was bleep like the Springer show

I got Poppa Al money you got pocket-style money (money)

Doggie, these maurie's, try a thou' dunny

Girl's dropping wild for me

Soon as I step in, and want to grab on the gator like Crocodile Dundee

See I'm the worst round, you'll hit the dirt ground

I surf towns in Jaguars that's dirt brown

I know it hurt clown, to see me laid in a suite

Under sheets, stuffed with more feathers than a First Down

Comfortable

Hell Rell:

Yo

I copped a couple K's for the beef when it goes down

I told niggaz that they couldn't eat in they own town

Fuck off the strip, 'fore I bust off a clip

My time is money I got to get the fuck off this brick

Follow me around and we'll see the life of a hustler

Follow you around and we'll see the life of a buster

Beat down, smacked up, robbed every minute

And my soldiers, they treat me like I'm God every minute

Hot as a fuck, but don't get acknowledged enough

This is grade-A piff you got garbage to puff

And when it come to my rocks get it polished and buffed

Same thing with your girl I get polished and buffed

A few bricks on the table, I'm smoking by the pound

If I don't blow I'm on the next thing smoking out of town

I'm sitting on grenades, I'm sitting on some blades

Yay, flip it, suede fitted sitting on my braids

Nigga I got gats to tuck and Cadillac the truck

I deal with mathematics homeboy and you ain't adding up

Two plus two don't equal five

I eat the truth but feed you lies you bitch nigga

And I ain't ask to come through, man I'm barging out

From now on you address me as the Hardest Out

40. Cal:

I'm the kid from 140 babe

40 making all the cake

My dope like tsunami, I kill 'em off a water weight

You play 50 get your story straight

Niggaz up in 50 minus 2, that's ya number due, the 48

Well do the math, the nigga's a problem

You broke, ya dead broke when I kill 'em and rob 'em

40, niggaz think they can call shots.

Y'all ain't got no wins you lost hair like a bald spot

You want the Tupac Shakur props?

But it's like a disease now 'cause all y'all got is smallpox

And that's off top at ya door with 4 knocks

40 catch vicks in they halls like coughdrops

Porsche box, school you how to sell the coke-a

'Cause "Diplomat" without the "t" spells diploma

Tryna, tell you doja, the flame in ya ass

The game in a smash, 40 keep his name in a stash

You the type to go to jail, turn ya name to Shebezz

I'm a menace, the O-Dog with the 'caine on the ave

40