Doughboyz Cashout

Cut From A Different Cloth
Have you ever seen a hundred grand? Scruffed in a duffle bag? Have you ever seen coke, nigga? Or look down at Teresa, seen the falls, nigga? We cut from a different cloth We cut from a different cloth Why'd a nigga get lost? There's no comparison, We cut from a different cloth We cut from a different cloth Stones all in my big face Shining all in your bitch face Stop making today my sick day Everyday my rich day You niggas squirrel like a big shape(?) Never seen no brick, though Never had no crack spot, but you Rap about that shit, though Sit down on my patio With a slim chick and a fattie, though Reminisce of the old days, when I hear rock In my old chains Had a doze spat before a mustache When I had a Coupe, you had a bus pass I stood back while you cut grass SongtexteTeen mate away, I fuck fast At a hotel with no bitch, though Just a lot of work and my pistols My cuz, though, tryna get flow After this, though, I'mma get low Serving killers all in the trenches Ride up at the club, jumping out the Benz I was in the game when you was riding bitches Right then came to my car Get away from my padded green Used to fit, but fat done means(?) My Benz is clean, that's real, mate, With that amphetamine Have these boys to sell the thing Unless you come to sell a dream We do it here, we lost niggas Can't fuck with us Our cloth different! Have you ever seen a hundred grand? Scruffed in a duffle bag? Have you ever seen coke, nigga? Or look down at Teresa, seen the falls, nigga? We cut from a different cloth We cut from a different cloth Why'd a nigga get lost? There's no comparison, We cut from a different cloth I don't play games, don't incite me! Yeah, you rap and get cash, but you ain't like me And we made 100 on set and runs Came humble, seven guns Luke already has six, nigga All we drop is classics You tripping, girl, you fucking with the hell, bitch! Double rock, ask around, clean up that mill shit Balls to the day, pretty smithy and the fence That light is going red, he's got a black ass, go to jail I shoot up them dumb asses, I be on that real shit First, a person, (???) ... So calm down, got a deal with them choppers, ease up hundred rounds And if I got 'em going 'gain I sort of want them heard me My man, Gatti a gangsta, show out to Betti, You know where my niggas front Don't approach where we hunt You don't do the shit that I do, ballet ain't fucking cool! Aus Songtexte Mania