Текст Starlito – Paper, Rock, Scissors

Intro: Starlito
Aye Craig I ain’t going first next time
Paper, Rock, Scissors
Step Brothers

Verse 1: Starlito
Last time I checked, I deposited it
And the teller tell you that it’s obvious, that I’m getting lots of it
I’m bossed up, I swear it cost so much
That’s why it cost to even talk to us (yea)
Make sure you get your offer up
Anything I do, I do it all for of us
Got a family that’s depending on me
I’m gambling or I’m spending some of it
All my niggas stay into something
Got a short fuse that extended on me

Verse 2: Don Trip
Still sleeping on us, you’re in a coma
Don’t believe me, just wait a moment
My brain cells got paper on them
This 40 Glock got a laser on it
Gun you down, spray you up
Balling out, not laying up
Thumbing through it, no paper cuts
If your money talk, it ain’t saying much
My momma thinks that I’m a lost cause
Fully automatic, fuck a guard dog
I rock G-Shock, no Audemar but I’m still flashy as a cop car
In that grass like a lawn dart
Star, I got ya back like a lumbar

Verse 3: Starlito

Verse 4: Don Trip
Now watch as our checks double
A nigga got drive like a Lex bubble
Fuck you, pay up no discussion
Ride through the city with a toaster oven
Rob the game like it owe me something
Bruh, I’m going in keep the motor running
My bitch blowing like Etta James
In my truck I got Mary Jane
Feeling lucky no horseshoe
But I run this shit like Edgerrin James
Neva changed, go figure
My brother faded like old pictures
We are not the same see the big difference is
You’re softer than a roll of tissue
I know these rappers so frightened
Cause we handle bars like bicycle
I had to bring them so nice with it
My ink pen drip ice sickles

Verse 5: Starlito and Don trip
As soon as I finish rolling up this blunt, I’ll get right with you
So accurate with that heat, I feel like Mike Miller
The FN my lil light pistol shoot chopper bullets look like missiles
That’s more money, more white bitches that follow order I’m high Hitler
Eastside Guerrilla I throw it up like a coin flipper
My money tall but I’m a short nigga
Got so much game I need a sports ticker
Of course nigga we killing this shit
Call the mortician we still in this bitch
As real as it gets I been dealing with splits no divorce nigga
Grind Hard no choice nigga
I’m a underdog no forfeiting
Just me her and no inhibition
She catch more kids than an orphanage (ugh!)
Live everyday like it’s 420
I’m disoriented like the orientals
Had the cookies in the plastic no fortune in it
(Hold up, you recording nigga?)
No chorus but it’s going on like 4 minutes
Fuck it, Trip go and end it
Bout my commas like a run on sentence
I know I’m a trip no pun intended
Life’s a bitch, you keep playing with it
Until me and death come pay a visit
And my bullets are like jury duty
In other words anyone can get it
I slap your bitch with my magic stick
Then treat that bitch like a sack of shit
Dry your eyes, It’s a crying shame
But I ball harder than catchers mitten
I’m sitting fat your majesty
I’m getting blowed like allergies
I grind hard no acid grease
I’m flipping pounds like balance beams
Notch!