Dirty Dancing

[Verse 1] Sleep with one eye open, tryna roll up, already high smokin' Tightropin' middle of the street, stood on all type of business Triple-A with them bricks, don't need no roadside assistance Bo J just another bad creation, guess I'm Michael Bivins I'm the type of guy to get you fitted for a suit and tie, whistlin' It's a ribbon in the sky, don't make me slice the ribbon You the type to cry on your bid and commit suicide I'm the type to move blocks of dry ice just to go ice a pendant At the cost of my own expense, that merchandise еxpensive Felt likе Boston George when he met his first flight attendant All across the board, got it covered, felt like Bobby Fischer Can't call on the Lord when karma comin', just hope God be with you In my city, niggas die for crumbs sellin' flock and crystal Most these niggas postin' all these guns never shot a pistol It's my intention as a Creature, streets is my addiction Got these niggas followin' the leader without my permission [Chorus] Heard he got chipped, call and check in, make sure your mans cool Youngin be Game Timin' shit but this ain't FanDuel We smoked his bro, they killed my mans, that's a win-lose But overall, nobody wins when the fam' feuds It's on the dance floor, make sure you bring your dance shoes Or end up in a shelter like the basement of Saint Andrew's Brick of dog in a silver pack, it look like canned food Two-step the blow, shit, I've been workin' on my dance moves [Verse 2] Took work advance and shippin', handlin' out the Ramada Forbidden dirty dance, I made it split, do the lambada My mind ain't wrapped too tight, try me and lose your appetite My line be crackin' like I be directin' traffic lights Got two left feet but I get jiggy, we be all groovin' Gangsters don't dance but I keep them yams ballroomin' The raw boomin', fishscale look like some raw tuna Ten blocks, time to clear out the spot, might have to call Poony Shavin' the extras off the top just like my mama poodle Drop it in the pot and watch it swell up like some ramen noodles Met the connect at Morelo, sat down and had some brunch Now I got five hundred grams in a empty box of Cap'n Crunch [Chorus] Heard he got chipped, call and check in, make sure your mans cool Youngin be Game Timin' shit but this ain't FanDuel We smoked his bro, they killed my mans, that's a win-lose But overall, nobody wins when the fam' feuds It's on the dance floor, make sure you bring your dance shoes Or end up in a shelter like the basement of Saint Andrew's Brick of dog in a silver pack, it look like canned food Two-step the blow, shit, I've been workin' on my dance moves