Killa Kyleon - Believe It Flow lyrics

rate me

[talking:]

Yeah, y'all see us looking good mayn

Hand on the wood grain, 4's yeah

We still tipping baby, yeah

[Kyleon:]

I'm coming down in my slab, 84's on Perelli's

Candy paint buck seats, I call it peanut butter jelly

Pouring up the purple, blowing on some'ing smelly

In a button drop the top, and put the dropper on the belly

Hand on my wood, same thang on my dash

Got the pop trunk glowing, lights say I'm having cash

I'm rolling on glass, paint dripping red wine

Big grill with a woman, the fifth wheel on behind

I'm flipping through your town, higher than a cooter brown

Got some'ing on my lap, that'll make a hater move around

I'm doing bout a buck-o-five, on the highway

Bad yellow bone bitch, sitting sideways

I'm smoking like Day-Day, on Friday

Nothing less than a slab, parked in my driveway hey

[Hook:]

I got them swangas on my Lac, I'm taking off the ceiling

Candy paint butter, fifth wheel and the grilling

Sipping drank, blowing kush I'm chilling

Strap in my lap, if you thinking bout stealing

[Kyleon:]

Dead End South Park, my hood's so legendary

R.I.P. Fat Pat and H.A.W.K., that's so necessary

The first hood, to ever bump Screw music

So if it wasn't for us, you boys wouldn't of knew shit

I'll show you how to do this, 4's and the vogues

Looking like a Phantom Rolls, as I'm closing my do's

Suicide-suicide, like I'm killing myself

Damn Killa your shit clean, yeah I'm feeling myself

I got a bad chick with me, she Black and Italian

Pretty eyes thick thighs, I call her my black stallion

Got my chain and medallion, mo' pieces than a hippie

I done seen a few boys, but ain't none fucking with me

Uh no sir, I'm in them streets like them yellow lines

Stacked up like some pancakes, I keep me a yellow dime

[Hook]

[talking:]

Purple Punch nigga, hey Storm

You swanging the slab, a lil' bit too hard mayn

You damn near spilled, this hundred dollar cup

On my thousand dollar jeans mayn