Plan of Attack
Lyrics
I came for the dough, you came for the hoes
We ain't on the same thing
You got side bitches attracted to bust downs
You got smalls ones noticing Plain Jane
She paid me for all of the game I gave her
That's simple and plain
Mama, I put you on like some pinkie rings
I can put you on, carve you out a lane
A avenue to go get paid
Big lights on the center stage
Got the duffel bag full of paper lay
Cross the back seat like a 12 gauge
Now I lay it down, lay it down, whenever the G's around
I set them a pile that's on the ground
Then I step off into the town
Checking my trap, collecting my racks
And planning attacks wherever you at
We'll put them hitters on your back
Haters'll never get to relax
Checking them tracks, collecting my racks
And planning attacks wherever you at, nigga
We'll be on a vacation
And you'll be nervous, hyperventilating
My niggas, ayy my niggas
Stayed my brothers, never turned my back on 'em
King shit, yeah, Machiavelli
Shore to the shore, no black on 'em
Got a hood bitch who head so good
I can't front, I had to double back on her
Dope boy, a real dope boy
You see yak track, I spit crack on it
Puff that, pass that
Even though the doctor say it's bad for me
Mama said I'm hard-headed
Had to take a chance for that cash money
Crashed on me, knocked me
Hit the plug, guarded me a three piece
Smoke ash, straight gas, only strong, Hercules, Hercules
Trapstar gone, getting on a mission
Motherfucker waiting for it
No fronts, pay up front, cold world
Nana say she praying for me
Wrist game, sick man, whip game, make that bounce
I'm rich, bitch, Rick James
For the pain, smoke me a ounce
Checking my trap, collecting my racks
And planning attacks wherever you at
We'll put them hitters on your back
Haters'll never get to relax
Checking them tracks, collecting my racks
And planning attacks wherever you at, nigga
We'll be on a vacation
And you'll be nervous, hyperventilating
On a creep, keep quiet
Real niggas move in silence
All my niggas out here wildin'
We in the streets steady mobbin'
Super villain, I'm a problem
Lil' fuck boys don't want no problems
Hating on me 'cause a nigga shining
Chain got the water, wet diamonds
Couldn't get a bag with 'em
Now I'm touching bands on my own without 'em
All my hoes done got finer
Loud packs done got louder
Bossed up like Scarface
First you get the money, then the power
Making racks every hour
Real nigga, never been a coward
I got the juice like Bishop
Call my haters up if there's a issue
Ain't shit for me to push up on you
Set check you with the pistol
In the kitchen with the cook up
Residue on the dishes
Garbage bag full of money
Counting hundreds up, getting to the riches
Checking my trap, collecting my racks
And planning attacks wherever you at
We'll put them hitters on your back
Haters'll never get to relax
Checking them tracks, collecting my racks
And planning attacks wherever you at, nigga
We'll be on a vacation
And you'll be nervous, hyperventilating
Writer(s): Alex Washington, Brandon Matthews, Derek Anderson, Roderick Brisco, Seth Mcdonald, Shante Franklin
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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