Tag: Veeze

Veeze – Unreleased Leak ( Lyrics ) Letra VEEZE WEAK ASS 7 Veeze – Unreleased Leak ( Lyrics )
Intro
That’s what crime do
See these young niggas— that’s how the mob move
(BassKids, answer your motherfuckin’ phone, nigga)

Verse 1
These racks in my pocket, that’s what crime do
See my young niggas with me ‘cause that’s how the mob move
I turned the cream soda to a Piru
Look me head to toe, everything I got exclusive
I kicked into overdrive, I ain’t tryna lose
She could fuck the square nigga, had to cut her loose
My young niggas shootin’ like they run the two
Why you lyin’ on my name when you know the truth?
Connectеd with no plug like the Bluetooth
All whitе truck, but the seats in it soowoo
Bitch nigga, take him for his chain, he like New New
Granny seen my cup, I had to lie, I said it’s prune juice
I threw the deuce sign when I blew through
7 Mile, dog in the car with no roof, roof
My hundreds turned blue, it got jumped, then it’s new crew
He ain’t got no motion, make a thousand every blue moon
Verse 2
More money, more power, more sex
Asked that bitch, “Where the throat at?” At the door step
Get your own, nigga, don’t take handouts from no man
Get the lo’, hit the road with it, show your gonads
Coppin’ blow, put your toes on it, make some more grams
Left the porch, twelve years old, richer than some grown men
Press the gas, pressure on, we can’t give ‘em no chance
Nigga lied in all his songs, he ain’t ever road-ran
Get the chicken, make it grow, I need some more eggs
Fuck the lights out her while I’m broke, flip the ho bread
The lo’ just dropped, nigga, code red
Damn, Veeze, you really slimed that nigga? Sure did
I’ll make that bitch hold the blicky ‘fore we hold hands
I’ll make that bitch get up with you, make you blow a ten
Hit the Walmart and swipe giffies, my first gig
If she ain’t down to stuff the bag, that’s the wrong bitch

Interlude
Gang
Gang, ganger

Verse 3
The way I lean break the laws of physics
He like Chris Rock dad when it come to the spending
Never did crime, break the law in his lyrics
I’m high off yellow pills like I’m flyin’ on Spirit
I ain’t just rappin’, nigga, I’m speakin’ from experience
Bust the wrapper, you gon’ see the white like Britney Spears in it
FaceTimed bro on the Lear geeked, seal rippin’
Gallery don’t make me make appointments, you a lil’ nigga
Take 75, still put chills in me
Give my bitch a thousand at a time just for dealin’ with me
Take a thousand beans to the hillbillies
How the fuck I build a friendship with pill sniffers?
It be the fakest niggas claimin’ they the real niggas
I need the quickest way to get up to a meal ticket
I’m tellin’ bro ‘nem chill, they just wanna kill niggas
These niggas think I’m famous, I don’t even feel different
Interlude
Gettin’ richer, miller
Yeah

Verse 4
Gettin’ richer, racin’ to a miller
Keepin’ distant, dodgin’ penitentiary
Just to get what I got, he’ll turn killer
You better keep some money comin’ just like your opinion
Keep your head up, it get realer and realer
So much dirt, I forget to repent for forgiveness
I’m glad I’m out the game ‘cause the snitches living
I put her on a wave like I live in a river
Gettin’ paid for all the shit I been through
Pourin’ champagne on the ground, tellin’ bro I miss him
He lost his mind, I don’t know that nigga
Honest, trust over lie, never over bitches
Tell the opps stay inside, they get no privilege
I’ma need a purple cane when I’m old, sipping
Young nigga, got more game than an old nigga
Stopped smokin’, still droppin’ dirty dope, mixing
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Veeze – Get Lucki ( Lyrics ) Letra VEEZE WEAK ASS 7 Veeze – Get Lucki ( Lyrics Letra )
Intro
Gangerski
Yeah, that’s stro (Big stro, nigga)
Yeah, yeah

Verse 1
We don’t do content, shh
Run it up times ten, shh (Yeah)
I’m four pockets filled, pshh
That bitch got bad lip fillers (You know that)
Scuffs all on my brand new Ricks, I’m tryna make ‘em feel vintage
I’m with bro in Oakland city, these niggas scared of real trenches (Come on now)
Yeah, he gang, but he ain’t Ganger, I wouldn’t split my pill with him (I wouldn’t split my pill with him)
These niggas dumb, they’ll steal the steak, we was tryna make a meal with ‘em (Tryna make a meal with ‘em)
If I call you twin, your opps my opps, I promise I’m gon spin with you (Swear to God)
I hit that bitch, her bestie too, I fucked up they whole friendship (Fucked up they whole friendship)
I’m throwing fours and pourin’ fours, you know I can’t be fucked with
I hit the club through the special door, you ain’t even know it opened (Ah)
I went flat broke so many times, couldn’t tell ‘cause I ain’t show it (Nah)
I’m such a fucking rockstar, man, it’s rips in all my clothing
The gang that’s tatted on me responsible for your dead homie
These niggas good at internet thuggin’, think they would tell on me (Think these niggas might snitch)
I’m sittin’ first class with dope in my bag, they sayin’ I smell funny
I’m killin’ the game, it’s all on camera, I need me a bail bondsman
CBF dot W, my young niggas shakin’ somethin’ (My young niggas shakin’ some’)
10k, that’s play money, I’ll buy your baby somethin’ (We the biggest in the world, nigga)
Buy pints, we drank junkies, ‘bout to pour me an eight or somethin’
I spread so many blue hundreds, look like I’m Neighborhood chucking
Shit, I’ll be back in the morning, nigga, just tell me how much you wanted (Just tell me how much you want)
You know these bags is strong, you break, you buy, you bust it open (You want that what?)
Think I need to hang up posters with a reward, my swag was stolen (Yeah)
He wanted a split of good, I pulled up and served him half Oprah
Stuff twenty thou’ in skinny pants, I call that a Harriet Tubman (Frrt, beep)
My bitches be mad when I hit that ho, no cap, ‘cause she ain’t nothin’
I’m poppin’ my shit like Baby ‘cause this outfit thirty-six hundred (I’m poppin’ my shit like Baby Money)
I fall in the club with like so many killers, the bitches be scared to touch me (Ha)
Chorus
Give me some head, get lucky
Give me some head, get lucky (Bitch)
Give me some head, get lucky
Bitch, give me some head, get lucky
Give me some head, get lucky
Yeah, give me some head, get lucky
Give me some—

Verse 2
Hold on, yeah
I want your friend, you buggin’
Girl, I know y’all do sex for money (Yeah)
No lie, this shit feel like a movie scene, I’m fuckin’ her, sweaty and muggy (Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh)
I get off them drugs, forget who I am, I’m thinkin’ I’m Justin Timber’ (I’m thinkin’ I’m Justin Timber’)
I take like a zip out of all of his bags, that nigga wasn’t paying attention (That nigga wasn’t paying attention)
I makin’ these charts for the city (Yeah), I’m really the hardest nigga (I swear to God)
On drugs like my auntie Beverly, I’ma pour up some syrup with my grammy
These niggas so broke, they crashin’ (They know), I’m gettin’ too hot, man, fan me (They know)
This brick same color big Latto, but I’ll rip it out the plastic (Woo)

Chorus
Give me some head, get lucky (Yeah)
Bitch, give me some head, get lucky
Ho, yeah, give me some head, get lucky
Pssh, give me some head, get lucky
Bitch, give me some head, get lucky
Give me some head, get lucky (The biggest)
Outro
C-B-F dot W (The only, the finest)
Young niggas shakin’ somethin’ (The Ganger number one, ski, gang)
Gang, gang, gang
One of the biggest foes on earth though, know what I’m sayin’? 4PF, CBF dot W, Can’t be fucked with, man
This shit for— this shit five life
This shit for life though, you know what I’m saying?
Don’t get this shit confused, man
Don’t get none of the humbleness confused, man
Gang, gang

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