Z-Ro - Too Much Time lyrics

rate me

(feat. Kevo)

[Hook x2:]

Playa I spent too much time, on my grind

Trying to shine, just to let y'all take it away

So if you thinking I'm all games, pull a number sign your name

I'ma make, you a believer today

[Kevo:]

Y'all know me, Fever nigga say it with authority

And getting cake, is my top priority

Please check the name, I send heat through your arteries

Now get it right, look bitch ain't a part of me

I never been that cat, to running up from a nigga

I work my H-P with ease, I'ma dump on you nigga

They try to box me in, and keep me contained

You can't out-hustle this hustler, so your work is in vein

Kevin is quick, to act a fool

Look go 'head if you want kid, and I'ma leave your forehead retractable

My common sense, is script at all

But you won't know, until your frontal lobe hit the wall and you fall

You wanna play with a gorilla, I hope you ready

You got some size twelve balls, bitch I hope they heavy

Look it's swallow ten razors, or die by my hands

Cause once you duct taped to that chair, you will comply with my plans

[Hook x2]

[Kevo:]

Like Everclear, I'm a hundred and once percent with gats

Let the iron recline back, and put a roof in your hat

Call me, Mr. Come Clap shit

Fake hustlers get fired and retired, for their pissy-poor tactics

Y'all got, the game backwards

Look ain't no Emmys around here, we releasing shots at you bastards

I lead the South in assists, and shots in the paint

How do you plan to stop something, that you know that you can't

Squeezing triggas, is a hobby

But if I have to go to the trunk y'all niggaz fucked, I'm bout to hide the lobby

My team is full of riders, off in the three

Blowing on trees switching V's, kid is where you gon find us

Cause my background, is filthy

Look the streets'll see me in a bodybag, before they see me plead guilty

If you a rider, let me see your guns

But if you acting and you ain't packing, playa come up off your funds

[Hook x2]

[Kevo:]

Understand, I'm the moniacle overheated supplier

Who bust and bury the nine at you, niggaz who think you got it all

I know chemistry, figgas factors and symmetry

Some say I deliberately, force hustlers to play the wall

We them cats, with Cardier's for wrist bands

Sixes with a kickstand, sitting on fans

The problem solver man, Fever stay strapped with

Eight at all times, yes thugs armed on blocks with

Eight at all times, so don't fuck with me

Fake ass Suge Knights, y'all all chumps to me

I came too far to fall off, or go back nigga

I'm in the gun range hitting numbers, on your throwback nigga

[Hook x2]