Lyrics Troy Ave – Hennessey And Apple Juice
Text:
I’m drinking Hennessey and apple so I might be wet
But it’s a fact there’s frozen water on my wrist and neck
Another fact is niggas hate but I’m still gettin’ a check
And I wear Dolce and Gabana like they nike tech
Doin’ em for L when I ball
Yup, get a ref
Look at my whips
Look at my drips
Killin’ ’em, missing breath
I’m breathin’ down my fourth million
Forever fresh
Broke niggas say «You stink!»
It’s the smell of success
Unfamiliar to ya
I’m your dealer’s dealer
While you be waitin’ in line, I got weight to grind nigga
Like folgers and ground beef, I cook up the smell sweet
Aromatherapy at the sky villa’s suite
In Vegas, that’s the palms
A dope boy turned don
Turnt rich ass nigga, I turn like Voltron
Heavy metal on me so I guess it’s the scene
Only difference is, I’ll fire that thing
Rappers just be rapping, your boy really be trappin’
Your boy really shop at Versace out in Manhattan
I’m a cold mothafucka and I just don’t care
Six bands for my blanket and ten for essential air (woo)
I had to rick flair on this shit
My earrings look like when he used to enter and shit
It go duh, duh, dun duh
Yup, get a ref
Look at my whips
Look at my drips
Killin’ ’em, missing breath
I’m breathin’ down my fourth million
Forever fresh
Broke niggas say «You stink!»
It’s the smell of success
Unfamiliar to ya
I’m your dealer’s dealer
While you be waitin’ in line, I got weight to grind nigga
Like folgers and ground beef, I cook up the smell sweet
Aromatherapy at the sky villa’s suite
In Vegas, that’s the palms
A dope boy turned don
Turnt rich ass nigga, I turn like Voltron
Heavy metal on me so I guess it’s the scene
Only difference is, I’ll fire that thing
Rappers just be rapping, your boy really be trappin’
Your boy really shop at Versace out in Manhattan
I’m a cold mothafucka and I just don’t care
Six bands for my blanket and ten for essential air (woo)
I had to rick flair on this shit
My earrings look like when he used to enter and shit
It go duh, duh, dun duh
Entrada, silk shirt by Escada
Do it big like I’m Papa
Only smoke real proper
All these fake niggas ’round, I’m starting to feel improper
Boutta go see a doctor, he said my wrist sick
Ice cold, brizzick
Twenty thousand on a hand, a nigga cook bricks wit’
I remember having to draw my mama up a wishlist
Now every day my kids can say «Daddy is it Christmas!?»
Nah, it’s just for nothin’
Just to show the world a nigga ain’t out here frontin’
Show you when you work, you ain’t gotta want for nothin’
Santa ain’t real, come in my crib I’ll slump him
Do it big like I’m Papa
Only smoke real proper
All these fake niggas ’round, I’m starting to feel improper
Boutta go see a doctor, he said my wrist sick
Ice cold, brizzick
Twenty thousand on a hand, a nigga cook bricks wit’
I remember having to draw my mama up a wishlist
Now every day my kids can say «Daddy is it Christmas!?»
Nah, it’s just for nothin’
Just to show the world a nigga ain’t out here frontin’
Show you when you work, you ain’t gotta want for nothin’
Santa ain’t real, come in my crib I’ll slump him
Word
Merry mothafuckin’ Christmas
Happy Hannukah
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