Skinny SC - Directors Cut Lyrics

I get a bag and I'm out
Goin' up, check the account
We finna run in yo house
Made a band off of the couch
Got a bag check the amount
Sneakin' in, don't make a sound
Clean up the scene, no doubt
We put that boy in the ground
I got a check, blow it all on a fit
She like my Converse, like dummy, it's Rick
Stealin' my style go and find you a niche
Speak on the gang and end up in the ditch
I know he's scary, ain't takin' a pitch
Go ahead and go home, you ain't on the list
Shooter on fire, don't know how to miss
Ain't showin' up with no bag in the mix
Ha, Yeah, yeah, Christopher Nolan I pull up i'm shootin' the clip
Huh, Yeah, whoa, He feelin' agony when I pop him like a zit
Fye, Fye, We never miss, so we pull up, you know he got hit
He woulda had me if I didn't stay with a stick
Put on that coat, I'm drippin' the most
Ain't sippin' no coke, I'm sippin' mimosa
Now he finna float, we leavin' him toast
Now I'm finna fly off, I leave in a ghost
No I ain't doin' no shout outs
You look up to me, you should bow down
They waitin' on me like countdown
I ain't drop in a minute
I seen a opp through the peephole
Makin' a play call me Deebo
He want a feat need a C-note
I get a bag and I'm out
Goin' up, check the account
We finna run in yo house
Made a band off of the couch
Got a bag check the amount
Sneakin' in, don't make a sound
Clean up the scene, no doubt
We put that boy in the ground

I get a bag and I'm out
Goin' up, check the account
We finna run in yo house
Made a band off of the couch
Got a bag check the amount
Sneakin' in, don't make a sound
Clean up the scene, no doubt
We put that boy in the ground
I got a check, blow it all on a fit
She like my Converse, like dummy, it's Rick
Stealin' my style go and find you a niche
Speak on the gang and end up in the ditch
I know he's scary, ain't takin' a pitch
Go ahead and go home, you ain't on the list
Shooter on fire, don't know how to miss
Ain't showin' up with no bag in the mix
Ha, Yeah, yeah, Christopher Nolan I pull up i'm shootin' the clip
Huh, Yeah, whoa, He feelin' agony when I pop him like a zit
Fye, Fye, We never miss, so we pull up, you know he got hit
He woulda had me if I didn't stay with a stick
Put on that coat, I'm drippin' the most
Ain't sippin' no coke, I'm sippin' mimosa
Now he finna float, we leavin' him toast
Now I'm finna fly off, I leave in a ghost
No I ain't doin' no shout outs
You look up to me, you should bow down
They waitin' on me like countdown
I ain't drop in a minute
I seen a opp through the peephole
Makin' a play call me Deebo
He want a feat need a C-note
I get a bag and I'm out
Goin' up, check the account
We finna run in yo house
Made a band off of the couch
Got a bag check the amount
Sneakin' in, don't make a sound
Clean up the scene, no doubt
We put that boy in the ground