 Triple F Life [Clean] » Las letras de canciones [+ Añadir +] |
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1. _ Cash
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2. _ Lurkin
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3. _ Flex
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4. _ Fist Pump
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5. _ Power of My Pen
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6. _ Clap
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7. _ Rooster In My Rari
Pay for what, girl you better pay for this dick
She the type to fall for two Zans in an outfit
I'm with the Zans crew, so it's hunneds on the floor
My hoes is off in the mo, I be balling hoe
Rooster in my rari, rooster in my rari, rooster in my rari, ok
Rooster in my rari, rooster in my rari, rooster in my rari, ok
Okay, uh, flex, these hoes, we done run through them
Zans we the the truth them, lames better salute them
These hoes, we done run through them
Zans we the the truth them, lames better salute them
I don't like your kid, you a boogie hoe
All in my face like a groupie hoe
Can't do one girl need a group of hoe
She a fool when she on that pole
Break it down, drop it low
Clap that, do it slow
Ran out of ones I'ma order some mo
Shawty got good friends on her honor roll
And … with moves like that no, girl you a pro
Hundred bands in my pocket, just to let you know
I'm too turnt, everything's a go
What it's gonna be, what it's gonna cost
Everything's on me, my god believe
We're bricksquad monopoly
Rooster in my rari, rooster in my rari, rooster in my rari, ok
Rooster in my rari, rooster in my rari, rooster in my rari, ok
Okay, uh, flex, these hoes, we done run through them
Zans we the the truth them, lames better salute them
These hoes, we done run through them
Zans we the the truth them, lames better salute them
I stay flexin iced out with a bank roll
Drunk as fuck everything's slow mo
Black girls, white girls at my show
Even got latin girls in the front row
Throwin' Throwin' Throwing dough
Throwing dough, Throwin' dough
Throwin'g dough, Throwin' dough
Bitch I said Throwing stacks
Flocka, her hair long and her ass fat
She screaming broke niggas that way
Where the ballers at, fuck her all night
And never call her back
Homerun the pussy every time I swing my bat
Squad, and if it's good I'ma double-back
Desperately I need some Zans, where my da-da at
Squad, if it's good, I'ma double-back
Flocka, desperate needs for them Zans, where my Da-Da at
Rooster in my rari, rooster in my rari, rooster in my rari, ok
Rooster in my rari, rooster in my rari, rooster in my rari, ok
Okay, uh, flex, these hoes, we done run through them
Zans we the the truth them, lames better salute them
These hoes, we done run through them
Zans we the the truth them, lames better salute them.
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8. _ Round of Applause
Round of applause, baby make that ass clap
Drop it to the floor make that ass clap
Round of applause, baby make that ass clap
Drop it to the floor make that ass clap
Let me see you, bust it, bust it
Bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it baby drop it to the floor and
Bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, drop it down and just
Bounce that ass, shake that ass like the Twerk Team
Hair long, ass fat, shawty mean
That girl look like Halle Berry when I'm on them beans (rollin!)
When I hit the scene girls yellin' and they scream
"Flocka can you be my baby daddy?" Yes!
Pimpin' like I'm Dolemite, hoes jump in my Caddy
Smoke like I got cataract
In the strip club thrown up them stacks got racks on top of racks
Bust that pussy make that ass clap, clap, clap
I ain't done with you, baby bring that ass back
Still got twenties, still got fifties, even got them hundreds
Throw some money, throw some money I'mma let it go
Waka Flocka Flame, better known as Mr. Let It Go
Round of applause, baby make that ass clap
Drop it to the floor make that ass clap
Round of applause, baby make that ass clap
Drop it to the floor make that ass clap
Let me see you, bust it, bust it
Bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it baby drop it to the floor and
Bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, drop it down and just
Ugh, bust it like you can't afford a car
You a star, you look in the mirror, you know who you are, right?
Cool take it low, take it way lower than that
I fly private when I go, ain't no layover on that
Yeah I made it to the top, took a seat, still sittin' man
I'm up in Stadium in D.C. still tippin' man
She could have payed tuition five times, still strippin'
I just throw a couple bills, and she'll have a pair of heels
Oh no, there I go, magic trickin' on your ass
Throwin' every president except for Nixon on your ass
Make you rich, I feel like I should make commission on your ass
Wonder what you would ever do if I went missin' on your ass ah
Round of applause, baby make that ass clap
Drop it to the floor make that ass clap
Round of applause, baby make that ass clap
Drop it to the floor make that ass clap
Let me see you, bust it, bust it
Bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, baby drop it to the floor and
Bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, drop it down and just
Throwin' them stacks, OMG, SMH when I'm on that stage
Pourin' Rose all on her ass, a round of applause baby pop that pussy
Drop it down for me girl do a split
Do you smoke girl? Gotta zip
White Rémy Martin, who wanna sip?
4-5 on my hip but I came one deep and every word I say is slurrin'
Vision, man is blurrin', drunk too much liquor
Smoke too much weed, bitch I'm on too much E
I'm so high, y'all will miss me
In love with strip clubs, shawty I'm a big tipper
Two hundred then I pull down my zipper, ugh
Shawty say she want me and she wanna meet my crew, squad
Niggas know we go hard, squad
Round of applause, baby make that ass clap
Drop it to the floor make that ass clap
Round of applause, baby make that ass clap
Drop it to the floor make that ass clap
Let me see you, bust it, bust it
Bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, baby drop it to the floor and
Bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it, drop it down and just
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9. _ I Don't Really Care
[Chorus]
Throwing money in the air like I don't really care
Yeah standing on the chair like I don't really care
Got bitches by the pair, I'm baller of the year
And haters everywhere but I don't really care
No I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't really care
No I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't really care
Got bitches by the pair, I'm baller of the year
And haters everywhere but I don't really care
Waka flockaaa!
I keep them bad bitches yelling it
Thugged out rich as hell plus I'm throwing dick
Drunk as shit, everywhere I go I'm yellin bricksquad monopoly loud as shit
Throwing money in the air fuck it I don't care
50 for the ear rings that's 100 for a pair
Versace on my ass 2 bands for my underwear
Foreign cars foreign broads baller of the year
Sparkles on my champagne independence day
I ain't really want yo number yo friend look better anyway
[Chorus]
Gotta stop, hold up too much money to fold up
Keep some green to roll up, I run it like a motor
You see the way I pull up, attention like a soldier
What you expect to happen now I'm swaggin on the sofa
I be so reckless, spend a hundred thou on my necklace
That mean my shit is colder, my neck froze polar
Bear nigga yeah, baller of the year
And we can take it there nigga I ain't never scared
[Chorus]
[Repeat: x2]
I see them haters watching fuck it let them hate
Mean mug them back yellin out I'm gettin cake
10, 000 worth of ones on the way, he ain't playin with
A check lil moma he just flexin, she came with you
She left with me, uh interception
He saying he gon' kill me when he catch me but I don't really care
No I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't really care
No I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't really care
Got bitches by the pair, I'm baller of the year
And haters everywhere but I don't really care
[Chorus]
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10. _ U Aint Bout That Life
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11. _ Get Low
[Chorus]
Lemme see you
Get it low, to the floor
Lemme know, what's up with us
Get it on
I wanna get you home
I'ma put it on
Ooh, she's just my type (Flocka)
Hair long and her eyes light
Her smile shine like the sunlight
One of a kind, baby momma type
Friend muggin', she the hater type
Waka Flocka, I'm the player type (Flex)
Jewelry bright, winter white
Champagne chilled on ice
Hold up!
Every bad b**** in the club to the dance floor
Hands on your hips, get real low
Throwing money, my M.O
So slot me your info
Let me know, what you doing tonight girl
I ain't got time for no games
I'm only here for tonight girl
Lemme see you get low, low, low
To the floor floor floor
Grab your hips girl
F*** your man
Gimme some more more more
[Chorus]
Ride for him
'Cause he say I ride real good
Pop star, but I f*** him like I'm still hood
Heard he wanna spend money on a red b****
Wanna see me do tricks with the next chick
Anyway, boobs up and my a** out
Somebody get a medic when he pass out
Big Nicki in the game n****
Brick squad, I ain't f***ing with no lame n**** (ah)
Dis dat part when I slow it down like this (ah)
Somebody better get the b**** another round (ah)
Fly as f*** I need a co-pilot
When I come out it's a motherf***ing ho riot
[Chorus]
They your size, little waist don't match your thighs
Say you're on my level but my level too high
Looking in your eyes, don't look so surprised
I know you ain't heard that, before
Searching in the club and I just found one
Pick up lines, I just dropped mine
Single for the night, tryna double my fun
So what's up, to the bad b****
In the corner, with her a** big
And her hair long, I'ma grab it
She call me daddy, but I'm a bastard
Like, I ain't tryna be horse and carriage
Or tryna take care of you, so put your bad habit
I just wanna smash it, smash it
Pass it, show you where the cash is, cash is
But first lemme see you
[Chorus]
You be like (ooh ooh), wrap your legs around (me, me)
I'll be on top of (you, you), you'll be like (ooh ooh)
I'll be like (ooh ooh), wrap your legs around (me, me)
I'll be on top of (you, you), I'll be on top of (ooh ooh)
[Chorus: x2]
You be like (ooh ooh), wrap your legs around (me, me)
I'll be on top of (you, you), you'll be like (ooh ooh)
I'll be like (ooh ooh), wrap your legs around (me, me)
I'll be on top of (you, you), I'll be on top of (ooh ooh)
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12. _ Let Dem Guns Blam
I'm too drunk, I'm too high to hear that fuck shit
Came to the club, yeah, I'm on that fuck shit
Let them things blam, let them things blam
Let them things blam, let them things blam
I'm too fucked up, too turnt up I'm on fuck shit
Let them things blam, let them things blam
My chopper filled up, let them things blam
My hangers got extendos, let them things blam
I'm from Riverdale, full of young niggas
Ain't no OG's, just some young niggas
Gangbangin, sellin weed
Shootouts, and some ecstasy
Them boys gone, them boys crazy, must have lost their mind
Whole clique strapped up fuck one time
Above the law hey my nigga, I'm on my grind
Afraid of the dark, so I'm forced to shine
Let them guns blam, bitch, you know I am
I go Kanye, Jay-Z ham it's the summer of sound
Let them guns blam, Flocka
Let them guns blam, Flocka
Let them guns blam, Flocka
Let them guns blam, Flocka
Friends turned to enemies, enemies turned to friends
Eat you like some busy bees, kill you and your best friend
Let them guns blam, bow
Let them guns blam, bow
Let them guns blam, bow
Let them guns blam, bow
Too turnt up on my block
Middle finger to the law fuck a cop
Real nigga till my heart stop
That KO make your body rock
Won't stop 'till I see a body drop
Fuck round get mollywopped
Leave my shawty off the top
I'm about a check
See my young niggas love to flex
Strapped up with that tech
Want beef, no talking, shawty that's a bet
Live with no regret, where you from shawty throw up your set
A nigga want me dead, got a check on my head got but I got too much too much respect
Pride, dignity, while you're hating on me I'm making history
Waka goin broke boy shitting me
Throw money on a bitch, ain't shit to me
Let them guns blam, let them guns blam
This a .44 bulldog it cannot jam
Let them guns blam, Flocka
Let them guns blam, Flocka
Let them guns blam, Flocka
Let them guns blam, Flocka
Friends turned to enemies, enemies turned to friends
Eat you like some busy bees, kill you and your best friend
Let them guns blam, bow
Let them guns blam, bow
Let them guns blam, bow
Let them guns blam, bow
Too turnt up on my block
Middle finger to the law fuck a cop
Real nigga till my heart stop
That KO make your body rock
My friends turn in my enemies, my enemies turn friends
Ain't talking about no pills nigga, we sliding round with extends
I'm ridin round in this Benz
50 rounds in this mac
I put a price on your head and they gone lay you down for dem racks
Y'all niggas ain't toting no straps
Y'all niggas don't want no war
Y'all niggas don't want my goons
Came around by your front door
But that hot shit, cause you pop shit
Runnin round like you got shit
Had my niggas all in your crib
You runnin round like you got bricks
Most niggas die cause they switch sides
And do dumb shit when they get high
Cross me, it won't get by
Try to play it cool, and you'll get fried
All the real niggas on this side
Niggas shoot like Dirk do
Every nigga that's 'round me get real money and merk too
Let them guns blam, Flocka
Let them guns blam, Flocka
Let them guns blam, Flocka
Let them guns blam, Flocka
Friends turned to enemies, enemies turned to friends
Eat you like some busy bees, kill you and your best friend
Let them guns blam, bow
Let them guns blam, bow
Let them guns blam, bow
Let them guns blam, bow
Too turnt up on my block
Middle finger to the law fuck a cop
Real nigga till my heart stop
That KO make your body rock
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13. _ Triple F Intro
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14. _ Triple F Outro
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15. _ Candy Paint & Gold Teeth
[Chorus]
I'm from the south, Southern Hospitality
Soul food dinners, dinners, dinners, dinners, dinners, dinners
I'm from the south where the old folks they don't mind they business
Strip clubs is our culture we some heavy spenders
[Repeat: x4]
Candy Paint and Gold Teeth
Candy Paint and Gold Teeth
I'm in Riverdale on 85, at Annlers' eatin' some Soul Food
Clayton County attitude let me know if you down too
Party all night with my people
And if yo' ass go hungry man them old folks they gon' feed you
I bring drama like Sammy Sam, I'm so plain fly
Twista, Bumpin' Do or Die
Car clean no suit and tie
Ghetto boy like Willie D
Cartier wood grains like I'm Pimp C, I hold the flame like Bun B
I ain't from the South that's Ludacris that country shit
Fish and grits, y'all full of bits, wet paint, big rims
You can't help, but done notice it, put the beat in it, dark tints
I'm coolin' it wit' my bad bitch, she sick ass shit not average
Country hair with good manners, yellin' Riverdale where we at
[Chorus]
[Repeat: x4]
Candy Paint and Gold Teeth
Candy Paint and Gold Teeth
Man I'm sittin' low in my old school, and my locs is on, and I'm so cool
And my top is dropped, so there's no roof and I'm shinin' hard as my gold tooth
I'm trill as hell, and I'm heavy set, pray to the Lord, but don't get it bent
I'm from the hood, and I represent, and I turn it up like the deficit
I'm from Texas bitch, Cadillac no Lexus bitch
Where we ride on fours, with suicide doors that part no plexis bitch
So you best not test us bitch, cause we will get reckless bitch
Catch you on yo' block wit' that big black Glock take more than yo' necklace bitch
Tell me who gon' check us, bitch, we outside, down for the hood nigga we gon' ride
My gladiators, yeah they go live wit' them AR's and them 4 5s
So watch yo' step, and know yo' place, you ain't trill don't show yo' face
Cause I'll pull and pop, and I'll catch a case, and I'll leave the scene wit' no trace
[Chorus]
[Repeat: x4]
Candy Paint and Gold Teeth
Candy Paint and Gold Teeth
Luda!
Fresh out the shop and the candy coated Cadillac stacked on amazin' wheels
Seats look like I hollered at the Reese's peanut butter company and made a deal
Trucks shakin' like jelly these honeys ready to check the spread
Cause I get that cheese, and I sandwich myself between the bread
So keep yo' mind on yo' riches, and get yo' hoes right
Cause in these streets you not safe unless yo' codes right
This southern living is something like you ain't never seen
Ask any hustler his favorite color is money green
Blacked out tint white wall spinnin'
Lookin' for the ham hock neck bone, collard green, cornbread eatin' women
We some country ass certified gangstas in the south
When you speak about who's hottest watch yo' motherfucking mouth
[Chorus]
[Repeat: x4]
Candy Paint and Gold Teeth
Candy Paint and Gold Teeth
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