442 Lyrics

Artist: Curren$y (Feat Lil Wayne & Birdman)
Album:
Year: 2013

[Verse 1 – Curren$y]
Uh, 442, 442
I’m burnin’ gas like a 442
I’m rollin’ past that BMW
That new shit pretty, these old-schools move
I ride city-to-city, my motor fine-tuned
I’ve got your girl with me, she so unfollowed you
I’m on a paper paper mission, caper to count the loot
We super fly fishin’ with yachts and Gucci shoes
Started no pot to piss in, now I smoke pot and kick it
Beautiful stranger bitch tryna get more familiar
New Orleans know I feel ‘em, wherever I go I bring ‘em
Real niggas in the building, smoked out any whip I’ve driven
Only focus is gettin’ in the door, so we ripped it
Up off the fuckin’ hinges like: “Where the dope? We know it’s in here”
Niggas already told us, give it here
Can we ball? So high on this motherfuckin’ jet
Check my rhymes, I ain’t totalled, I get…

[Chorus – Curren$y]
442, 442
I’m burnin’ gas like a 442
We comin’ through, convertibles and coupes
My OG told me: “smash anything in front you”
442, 442
I’m burnin’ gas like a 442
Convertibles and coupes
If it’s ’bout that cash, no tellin’ what we’ll do

[Verse 2 – Lil Wayne]
Money to the ceiling, pimpin’ is a gift I opened way too early
Like my bitch hair curly, red-bone curvy
Make ‘em run from this dick like Jackie Joyner-Kersee
Alright, lipstick on my boxers, these bitches love my posture
Quick frankly I’m Sinatra, I’m shark and you tilapia
I’ve got niggas on payroll, but I grab my bitches
I’m lookin’ for my reason to tell my bitches I don’t need ‘em
Alright, revenge taste better than pussy
Man, ain’t got no purple, gotta get it from Whoopi
I’mma put it in your mouth, I don’t know how else to put it
I bet they ain’t fuckin’ with me, where’s the bookie?
Alright, I’m a motherfucker, quote unquote
She ride this dick like it came off the showroom floor
Lil Tunechi aka No Baking Soda, I’m high, Lamar Odom
I’m smokin’ like a motor…

[Chorus – Curren$y]
442, 442
I’m burnin’ gas like a 442
We comin’ through, convertibles and coupes
My OG told me: “smash anything in front you”
442, 442
I’m burnin’ gas like a 442
We comin’ through, convertibles and coupes
If it’s ’bout that cash, no tellin’ what we’ll do

[Verse 3 – Birdman]
We poppin’ off, we get to stuntin’, you know it’s bang or ball
Rollin’ off, slidin’ free, spray, we clear them streets
3rd Ward, we been them niggas
Reppin’ mines to the end my nigga
High life, we can’t fake shit
So we’ll show them niggas
Take they bitches, bring ‘em home
Stunna Island, bang and bone
Lay low in my old school
Top back for my old cool
Gangbang, stay fly in that Bentley Coupe
Told my bitch how to get this money
Showed a bitch how to get this money
Pimpin’ hoes, we pimp this game
Got the money, we kept on runnin’
Hard top in that new school
Drop top in that new school
Roof wide open, out the pound with them big tools
What up five? We in this jungle
What up five? We keep it bumpin’
What up five? We shine and hustle
What up five? Brratt!

[Chorus – Curren$y]
442, 442
I’m burnin’ gas like a 442
We comin’ through, convertibles and coupes
My OG told me: “smash anything in front you”
442, 442
I’m burnin’ gas like a 442
We comin’ through, convertibles and coupes
If it’s ’bout that cash, no tellin’ what we’ll do

[Outro – Birdman]
Spitta what’s poppin’ boy?
Jet Life
Uptown we in this bitch
You understand me nigga?
442
Big money poppin’ boy, yeah
Swaggin’ on these niggas, ya heard?
Top flo’ poppin’ that GTVodka
Jet Life
Chea, ya heard?

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