Lyrics Baby Smoove – Plastic

I play with plastic, this ain’t really got a smell
But when I’m on the road, I’ma have them pieces, well
If I get locked up, they gonna try to add some years
I woulda known that indictment, but it’s tatted on my skin

This is real, snap my fingers, I didn’t get a nigga deal
I went in the booth, but I’m thinkin’ ’bout the feel
New bitch like fendi, but she wide-set heels
Walkin’ through Somerset with a bag of me, for real
Painkillers in my pocket, I’ma take ’em till I heal
I’ll be in the trenches, you ain’t in your hood, for real
My nigga got a low number, I might show my other skills
And you thought it was some pounds, but it’s proof that I didn’t kill

My nigga, tell me what you want, what you need
Yeah, that shit around from the phones to the bins
Need every kind of whip, from the coupes to the sleaze
I got mine a bitch, who tryna suck me through the jeans
I got some white hot, ’bout to pour up inna cream
Niggas out here tough as hell, but ain’t never got no cheese
You gonna make a fake page to say what you want to me
I ain’t gotta search for hoes, all of ’em find me

Boy, you ain’t gettin’ off, somebody need to put you on
Niggas rappin’ ’bout the kitchen, but ain’t never touched the stove
I’m in and out of stores, bitch, I’ll call you when I’m home
But I be home in a week ’cause, right now, I’m on the road
These niggas tell it all, when a little pressure on
You can hear the pain in my shit, nigga, that’s my sauce
So in love with this money, I can’t stand me bein’ broke
Nigga play with my name, we gon’ hang ’em by his throat

This is real, snap my fingers, I didn’t get a nigga pill
I went in the booth, but I’m thinkin’ ’bout the feel

Three gram wood to the face, I’m not passin’
Most these niggas characters, in these raps, they be actin’
I ain’t really like these rap niggas, they be cappin’
If niggas wanna smoke, it’s on the flo’, I ain’t cappin’
If you don’t buy the damn pack, nigga, why you askin’?
Havin’ dreams that I’m rich, I woke up, and made it happen
Fell asleep with my cup, and woke up to a package
Turnin’ nothing into something, niggas think I know magic

I play with plastic, this ain’t got a smell
But when I’m on the road, I’ma have them pieces
If I, they gon’
I woulda known that indictment, but it’s tatted on my skin

This is real, snap my fingers, I didn’t get a nigga deal
I’ll be in the booth, but I’m thinkin’ ’bout that new light
But she wideset here, walkin’ through Somerset with a bag on me, for real
Painkillers in my, I’ma take till I heal
I’ll be in the trenches, you ain’t in your hood, for real
Nigga got a low, I might show my other
And you thought it was some, but it’s, it ain’t
Ay, ay