Tip Toe

[Intro: JID] Yeah, kamikaze, um, kamikaze, um [Verse 1: JID] Kamikaze caramel covered karma on the tip of my taste buds Tip of the iceberg, tip to the waitress Tip on your toes mama, don't trip on that mink rug That's a lil' mud, mama don't trip on that pink stuff That's a lil' pussy baby, don't trip on that pink stuff I'm just tryna hit it once, no reason to break up She look at me like, "This nigga don't think when he say stuff" Fuckin' right, and that's probably the root to my problems 'Member I told you 'bout that time we almost got shot up They came from the back of the back, and plot to come rob us The funny thing with that, them niggas robbin' the robbers My homie lost a stack, I lost like forty-one dollars I said, "Both you niggas wack and if I see you, inshallah" He had the gun to my neck, I don't know why he ain't wild out Brocka-rocka, call my brother like them just killed Blocka But no nada, I quote shottas Haha, guala in my pocket, bitch, I'm ballin', Prince Ali Ababwa Bwoy-bwoy life sucks on the other end of the blocka We dodge them shots from the other end of the block It's no end runnin' from niggas and cops Damn [Verse 2: Pouya] I been through the worst, I should've been inside that hearse The mo' I stack my paper tall, the mo' they want me in the dirt Six feet under, these women make me wonder Would you still want my number? If that Rollie wasn't under your budget I'll never know who really got the best intentions for me So I keep my circle tight and I got that Glock in my reach Without a question, see me runnin' to the check, no second guesses Smith and Wesson if they steppin' out of line (bitch) What's on your mind, lil' bitch? I ain't got no time for this Back and forth, mumblin' under your breath, just tell me what the fuckin' problem is These problematic bitches always want the finer things But you ain't fine enough to get your finder's fee She want to squall, she want assault, that's fine with me, finally Fuckin' hoes I only thought I see inside my fantasies That Phantom Ghost inspire me to do the most That Honda Civic made me hungry for some foreign motors Upgraded to the Porsche before I drank my Folgers Pour that forty on the soil for my fallen soldiers Pour that forty on the soil for my dead hope Never going back in time, never gon' be dead broke (Bitch)