5.0 Chronicles
Curren$y, Larry June
Making sure the rims wipe down, you now I mean?
Man (Mr. Rodgers)
Bring that shit in, yeah
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip and I'm straight) damn
(Coolin', movin' smokin' my Jamaican-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, gas out the mother-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, whip, whip)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip and I'm straight) damn
(Coolin', movin' smokin' my Jamaican-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, gas out the mother-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, whip, whip)
Hop in my 5.0, toss on something smooth (man)
Plottin' on a bigger move, real estate in the Hills
Came with a master plan, went home and switched whips
Thirty day run in my under touch fifty quick
Figured I'd send the bitch, fucked around and made a star
Top notch clientele, 3k for every call
We don't glamorize the game, we tryna do better
Still spending five G's on these cashmere sweaters
You niggas was cupcaking, we was playing Costa Mesa
At the Cheesecake Factory interviewing Heather
Tip the valet, pull off in somethin' special
Secret location, doin' push-ups and swimming
Six figure credit line just to bill the corporation
Take heed, my nigga, this a different conversation
A lotta shit changed (changed), way more crazy (crazy)
But I maintained ('tained)
5.0 swang
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip and I'm straight) damn
(Coolin', movin' smokin' my Jamaican-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, gas out the mother-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, whip, whip)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip and I'm straight) damn
(Coolin', movin' smokin' my Jamaican-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, gas out the mother-) yeah, yeah
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, whip, whip) yeah, let me say it, bro
Gas in my jar, gas in my car
My mama prayed hard 'cause her son a star
Automatic start, range hella far
Pull up by my used-to-be-the broad
Backslidin' every now and then
She still cool, so we like close friends
So much in common
Smokin' and countin'
Tossin' gold coins in the water fountain
Making wishes on 'em pullin' Impalas out 'em
Couple foreigns I got 'em
Holdin' somethin' partna
I often talk about 'em over beats that's knockin'
They legs tired from clout chasin'
Eyes sore from pocket watchin'
My flow amazing, all this holy water 'round me
Girl, you better thank the Lord you found me
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip and I'm straight) East side every time
(Coolin', movin' smokin' my Jamaican-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, gas out the mother-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, whip, whip)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip and I'm straight)
(Coolin', movin' smokin' my Jamaican-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, gas out the mother-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, whip, whip) yeah
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip and I'm straight) that's right
(Coolin', movin' smokin' my Jamaican-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, gas out the mother-)
(Gas out the motherfuckin' whip, whip, whip)
Written by: Justin Rogers, Larry Eugene Hendricks, Shante Scott FranklinLyrics © Universal Music Publishing GroupLyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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