Your Old Droog

Your Old Droog - Sleepers... lyrics

rate me

(Intro)

I wish I wouldn't be so tired

I don't why I should be so tired

I didn't use to be

Well, if you said that and

Most of us haven't got time for another

You might think about this

It's possible, it's even likely

That what I'm bout to ask you now

May point out the cause of your tiredness

And the question is are you gettin' the right amount

Are you getting plenty of every one of those...

(Verse)

Precious z's, I got the TV in the back watching Louie G Omnia

Rappers curing my insomnia, my EP raised wild standards

Droog is a Cuban, y'all black and mild mannered

Yo daughter’s on the word tip, I told her 'get a good grip'

Cuz at any given moment it could slip

Got to exercise self-control well, said it defeats the purpose

Using a victory cigar then roll the L

Burn Swisha sweet, bumpin' this Larry Fisherman beat

You finito, don’t talk that nasty shit!

I’m finna eat though, the state of the game can make ya puke, gross

And the media is on some next shit, gettin' too close

Brotha got the nerve to call himself a journalist

Talkin' all the time, he need to learn to listen

The artist they suck is starstruck when they meet us

Talking like like they shit is deep, it puts me to sleep

Aye yo, all we do is craft rap hangers

That’s slap bumping out their headphones and strap hangers

Use that shit as a metronome, ya know so you don’t forget your poem

Write it down when you get home!

Play that old sound that break head and dome

The entire buildings feel me, I don’t just command the room

You see folks on they best behavior when Droog around

Prefer a girl my age, but I take a cougar down

I knew a chick named Sneakerhead, Sneakerhead

She licked her sole like Fat Joe, even gave the sneaker head

Y'all just have your Puma and Stan Smith and Bates

Do you mind if we dance with yo dates?

Oh, ya mind!? Take it outside and wash shoes

Cats are sort of wild, but couldn’t walk a quarter mile in our shoes

They still shopping at Marshalls, I show up, make em close

Eat your food like stake em, stake em hoes

What are the hoes hearin my cadence and my drawl?

I haven’t even made sense of it all

Send a shot like a spitball, shake the ghost

And make the most of my undyin' spirit, gone! Away with all!

I’m out here getting my career and my bread right

You out there looking like a deer in the headlights

Said it was piff, but it was airy that you sold us

No good! "ike some titties ruined by the aureolas...

(Outro: Next - Too Close)

You're Making It Hard For Me

[...]

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