HBIC

HBIC Lyrics

It's Philthy, nigga
Fake love
Look

Man on bail for a half a mil' (He is)
I would've signed my life away for a half a mil' (I would've, nigga)
My street team don't pass out no flyers (uh-uh)
Knock him down at his solo, casing on his flyer (Ay, do that)
Fifty-nine nights, I was serving white (thirty-six)
Took his PC 'cause he ain't serve 'em right (I had to)
She could never be my bitch until the wire's sent (never)
CF card, the business license a requirement (it's Philthy)
Gotta bust your moves in your shotta shoes (gotta)
If you hanging with that nigga, you gon' die with dude (suckers)
Nigga, where I'm from, gangland spunky (seminary)
He ain't a factor from my hood, that nigga just a junkie (broke nigga)
A fiend for designer, Gucci top client (Sem City Money Man)
Feds did a sweep, you niggas all compliant (pussy)
Volunteer ratting, I don't know what happened (uh-uh)
The only thing that I'ma tell 'em if they ever snatch me (it's Philthy)
G-Star jeans with the Raf Simons (Designer)
The round table with my nigga, count a half a million (chump change)
Bitch say she Filipino from the waist down (bitch)
Head bitch in charge, that mean she hold it down, (it's Philthy)

It was back to back moddas in abandoned building (yeah)
Ghetto children, never thought a nigga'd see a million (whoa)
First time my mother skip'd, it was the illest feeling
Straight drop, we ain't rocking with no penicillin
Free the drillers for they children, nigga, kids need 'em
Stick illegal, took a trip but niggas flipped the Regal
I tried to feed him, when I fed him though, he bit a finger
His and hers matching Rollies for my señorita
Ain't no secrets, he ain't eating on this side of town
Don't make me water all these P's if you ain't sliding down
Suckers asked to go to war but niggas hide now
Support the law, nigga hustle, blood buy him out
Stitched lipper, you gon' end up with a wired mouth
Million grass interception, gotta fly 'em South
Gang related, get a drop and come and hunt you down
We gang related, get a drop and come and hunt you down
It's politics so I'll never put that thumper down
High as shit, bitch, you know I hate coming down
Run it up and put your niggas on, bust it down
Take the Rollie to the jeweler, let him bust it down

Writer(s): Philip Beasley, Timothy P. Patterson
Copyright(s): Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Songtrust Ave
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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