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