442 Lyrics

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

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[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, bitches 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, hoes already told us, give it here”
Fuck them, we ball, so high on this motherfuckin’ jet
Check my rhymes, I ain’t totalled, I get nigga

[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 2 - Lil Wayne]
Money to the ceiling, pimpin’ is a gift I opened way too early
Like my hoes hair curly, red-bone curvy
Make ‘em run from this dick like Jackie Joyner-Kersee
Alright, lipstick on my boxers, these pills fuck up my posture
Quick frankly I’m Sinatra, I’m shark and you tilapia
I’ve got shooters on payroll, but I grab my binoculars
I’m lookin’ for a reason to tell my shooters I don’t need ‘em
Alright, revenge taste better than pussy
Weed 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, nigga 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 as Lamar Odom
I’m smokin’ like a motor, 442 bitch

[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]
Fuck pussy ass niggas, we poppin’ off
We get to stuntin’, you know it’s bang or ball
Rollin’ off, slidin’ free
Choppa spray, we clear them streets
3rd Ward, we been them niggas
Reppin’ mines to the end my nigga
High life, you can’t fade me nigga
Fuck them niggas, we’ll show them niggas
Take they bitches, bring ‘em home
Stunna Island, bitch we bang and ball
Lay low in my old school
Top back for my old cool
Gave them niggas some fresh gang
Stay fly in that Bentley Coupe
Told my niggas how to get this money
Showed them niggas 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 nigga, 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, fuck with you my nigga
Uptown we in this bitch
You understand me?
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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