Lyrics Chief Keef – Smoked
Text:
Yeah
Sosa, Duke (Wheezy Beats)
Gang, gang
Lil Duke:
Beehive them straps at the drop off at the porch
Traps stay, the Rollie and the neighbor, they know
Young nigga slangin’ and baggin’ them toasters
Traffickin’ pounds and then passing like ration
Gotta go get it, I put plays in motion
I never offer no handout
Nigga tried me and it’s man down
Put that shit out and I stand out
The boys in the hood just like landmines
I blow that shit like a fan
I fuck with Sosa, my man
We gon’ ball like the clan
Geekin we booted, know what I’m sayin’
Chief Keef:
Rollin’ the green at the red light
I’m blowing that dope, get my head right
I coke, but that drank got my head straight
You really the word, now it’s their way
You see me flown up in this time cup
I cut that check then I’m bouncin’
All of this green that I’m countin’
With mula that I got for allowance
Nigga, you better pay homage
Nigga, you better pay something
We gon’ pull up with them drones
Lil Duke:
Fuck all that talk and we want all that smoke
Beehive them straps at the drop off at the porch
Traps stay, the Rollie and the neighbor, they know
Young nigga slangin’ and baggin’ them toasters
Traffickin’ pounds and then passing like ration
Gotta go get it, I put plays in motion
I never offer no handout
Nigga tried me and it’s man down
Put that shit out and I stand out
The boys in the hood just like landmines
I blow that shit like a fan
I fuck with Sosa, my man
We gon’ ball like the clan
Geekin we booted, know what I’m sayin’
I sip, I can roll out the gas
I thinkin’ I left for my past
All of them niggas got blasters
We used to run on the masses
Ballin’, I never had it
Got it out the mud, bitch I’mma serve it
Bitches, they chasin’ them diamonds, they harassing
Every time I’m the booth, it’s a classic
I had to get on my shit
Came from the trenches I’m tryna get rich
City, the city, now everything lit
Set them racks on me, I came with a trench
Fuck is you talkin’ about, fuck all that insta shit
Young niggas going, they going, they going out the room
30 on round, get hit with an SU clip
Fuck all that talk and we want all that smoke
Beehive them straps at the drop off at the porch
Traps stay, the Rollie and the neighbor, they know
Young nigga slangin’ and baggin’ them toasters
Traffickin’ pounds and then passing like ration
Gotta go get it, I put plays in motion
I never offer no handout
Nigga tried me and it’s man down
Put that shit out and I stand out
The boys in the hood just like landmines
I blow that shit like a fan
I fuck with Sosa, my man
We gon’ ball like the clan
Geekin we booted, know what I’m sayin’