Dave East – What A Year

[Verse: Dave East]
(East side, wo!)
I like my women to be pure, no Juicy Couture
Outfits down south, trips for raw i’m tryna get more
I hid the pistol In the store right under the chips
My outfit come with a grip, in love with her lips
I just to hide the work in her mother crib
Things changes now I don’t even know where her mother live
She don’t call me Dave East, address me by my government
Told me pay my taxes before you owe the government
Complexion mocha, inner section with smokers
Face mean I bet you nigga never approach her
Told the homie I had to kill it for the culture
I come to compliment not insult ya, I can coach ya
Give you the play it’s hard to give you a day
Couple hours blowing sour you know I’m not finna stay
Them other niggas is cowards, I promise they in the way
Couple dollars let’s pick us a [?] so we can play
Now we gettin’ massages, forgings and them garages
I’ve been having ménages, princess cuts is flawless
Just to sit the truck you got to be gorgeous
You bad without speakin’ ma you ain’t got to be talkin’
She’s like a [] leaking all on my seats
We get tired of the city our weekends be on the beach
We creepin’ in and out the sheets, she was in and out the jep
I turn women out to freaks, I was in her mouth this week
I’ve got a million mouths to feed, that’s why i’m in and out these streets
A hundred bitches on my line, but i’m just in and out these beats
Brought the hammer everywhere ’cause we was in and out beef
My little L.A. bitch had me eating In ‘n Out for weeks
First class to LaGuardia I’m right back to New York time
A lot of niggas renting their jewelry, but I bought mine
Mind the of trap, you can’t double back if you cross lines
Them forty fives jam so this time I only bought nines
Niggas only respect homicide and chalk lines
Talking ’bout the coupe, I’m tryna Porsche mine
I’m tryna hurt the strip, them little baggies just to hurt the tip
Crack smoke my clothes before I even learned to whip
No handouts I don’t wan’t it if I ain’t earnin’ it
Weed and pills I was servin’ it, jumpin’ out of suburban
All ice like George Gervin, on flights I lost service
Your type be all nervous, the Maybach got orange curtains
And I’m just on my Birking, what you hearing in these verses the same nigga in person
Cuzzo doing the stretch, he caught 8 of off ‘caine purchase
Niggas claim they the hottest they music I ain’t heard it
Guess it ain’t worth it
That shit you be doing just ain’t working
I got a different lawyer they came with the same verdict
And I can get you broad day light, like Wayne Perry
Potato on the witnesses saying that they ain’t heard it

Only the real recognize what I’m doing. From the bottom, nowhere else but up, million dollar deal, did that. Need millions for all my niggas, gang. Fuck happened to D’Angelo this that shit, East Side, uh! New year, new money, new diamonds, no new niggas! hahah

event_note January 3, 2017

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