Clark Street Baby Lyrics – BiC Fizzle
Singer: BiC Fizzle
Title: Clark Street Baby
I ain’t have sh#t to my name to the first or the third
Middle o’clock, tryna catch me a syrup
To be factorial that sh#t for the birds
I’ma die ’bout respect, is you slidin’ ’bout yours?
Chicago feet, I’m straight from the city
You wanna come get it? I got it, it’s yours
Promethazine just to help my nerves
I’m doin’ good, say, “f#ck what you heard” [f#ck what you heard
Time on the clock don’t stop for no one
Standin’ on ten, want one? I don’t want one
He think I’m p#ss#, make me have to show one
He ain’t gon’ shoot with that .40, he show gun
I’m with them killers, make me havе to send ’em
I roll with them sinnеrs, I know they’ll take somethin’
I want the hundreds and money since day one
Lay where you play, your soul I’ll take one
How they gon’ hate on me?
Noodles and crackles, I’m straight from the street
Breakin’ at houses, flippin’ them couches
Can’t find the money, we take your TVs
Ain’t have a dime on my wallet
So close to nothin’, this sh#t that the D-boy taught me
I’m sippin’ Wocky like coffee, no coughin’
f#ck n#gg# play, he get put in a coffin
I want that money, let’s skip all the talkin’
Different, them days me and Loco was walkin’
Late night stop with the motion on cars
Don’t stop ’til I’m up and whole team bosses
It’s gamblin’, takin’ no losses
Too many crosses, you makin’ me cross
Catch up soul, I’m steppin’ with caution
Play with that K, I’ma step if you drop [I’ma step if you drop
I’m out in public, kept sh#t in my pockets
From nothin’ to somethin’, shadow like a rocket
I got the key to the hood like a locket
Still post on the block like I’m young as some jockeys
Pop out, chain on frost, they watchin’
We do it once and they copy it and jock it
Run up a check, got a reasion to flex
Used to rap for the free, now they pay me to pop it
If you play with the check, gotta move a lil’ smarter
Punchin’ on sh#t like my name Vince Carter
Water in hard, all the snakes out the garden
The only way, I’ma keep goin’ up farther
She wanna f#ck, I’ma charge her
I watch money get larger and larger
Run up a check ’til my soul departure
Graduate up the trenches, I’ll make it the Harvard
I ain’t have sh#t to my name to the first or the third
Middle o’clock, tryna catch me a syrup
To be factorial that sh#t for the birds
I’ma die ’bout respect, is you slidin’ ’bout yours?
Chicago feet, I’m straight from the city
You wanna come get it? I got it, it’s yours
Promethazine just to help my nerves
I’m doin’ good, say, “f#ck what you heard” [f#ck what you heard
Time on the clock don’t stop for no one
Standin’ on ten, want one? I don’t want one
He think I’m p#ss#, make me have to show one
He ain’t gon’ shoot with that .40, he show gun
Uh, yeah, look at my ice, you can tell that I’m on one
That n#gg# b#tch, you can tell he ain’t on nothin’
Hop in the ‘Cat and burn out, do a donut [Burn out, do a donut
Used to post on the block sellin’ dope ’til the sun out
‘Member them days prayin’ to God for a come up
Now it’s ice on my wrist and I’m thumbin’ through commas
Just got a call from the ones, it said, “Boy, you a stunna
You get this sh#t from your mama”
My brother just see me in Texas, said he know that I’m tired
He love me, just gotta keep goin’
Money, it’s good, need to wet, heal the pain
Who can I call? My bae against the grain
It’s crazy ’cause when it get down, they kept runnin’ from me
But they know they can call on my name
f#ck all my haters, I know that they watchin’
All on my page, yeah, I know that they copyin’
Only sit back, keep stackin’ the profit
Can’t no n#gg# pop it the way that I pop it
I ain’t have sh#t to my name to the first or the third
Middle o’clock, tryna catch me a syrup
To be factorial that sh#t for the birds
I’ma die ’bout respect, is you slidin’ ’bout yours?
Chicago feet, I’m straight from the city
You wanna come get it? I got it, it’s yours
Promethazine just to help my nerves
I’m doin’ good, say, “f#ck what you heard” [f#ck what you heard
Time on the clock don’t stop for no one
Standin’ on ten, want one? I don’t want one
He think I’m p#ss#, make me have to show one
He ain’t gon’ shoot with that .40, he show gun
I ain’t have sh#t to my name to the first or the third
Middle o’clock, tryna catch me a syrup
To be factorial that sh#t for the birds
I’ma die ’bout respect, is you slidin’ ’bout yours?
Chicago feet, I’m straight from the city
You wanna come get it? I got it, it’s yours
Promethazine just to help my nerves
I’m doin’ good, say, “f#ck what you heard” [f#ck what you heard
Time on the clock don’t stop for no one
Standin’ on ten, want one? I don’t want one
He think I’m p#ss#, make me have to show one
He ain’t gon’ shoot with that .40, he show gun
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Lyrics BiC Fizzle – Clark Street Baby
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