Split/Whole Time

Part I: Split Intro Sippin' the peach soda The niggas inside, they gon' hide 'til the heat is over Frrp Sippin' the peach soda The niggas inside, they gon' hide 'til the heat is over Frrp Sippin' the peach soda The niggas inside, they gon' hide 'til the heat is over I'ma rap 'til the beat is over Two Chanel bags, the same price as my mink sofa And I move like the king cobra Slimin' them out, dawg, I didn't have to think it over Earl on the beat Frrp Verse 1 Sippin' the peach soda The niggas inside, they gon' hide 'til the heat is over Uh I'ma rap 'til the beat is over Uh Two Chanel bags, the same price as my mink sofa Go And I move like the king cobra Go Slimin' them out, dawg, I didn't have to think it over Slatt This lil' bitch, I'ma bend her over After I'm done, call the gang, I'ma send her over Gang I'm in tune with the UPS Yeah Waitin' on packages, KPreme gon' do the rest Got some bitches in Budapest Strapped with them Ks, they walk around wearin' bullet vests Ooh, frrp I need you to do more but speak less Youngins gon' open, uh Youngins gon' open 'em up like some Mucinex Go Give me top, baby, keep the sex Go My dick get bigger when I see a money check Used to didn't have a hundred bands Beep Now I'm outside with the gang doin' the money dance I'm in rush hour, roadrunnin' Mm I'm in rush hour, roadrunnin' like Jackie Chan My big brother was beatin' pans Beat it Lil' brother psyched out, he might go shoot your mans Buh, buh, beep Sunday through Sunday Sunday I got them bitches comin' on the runway On the runway Fuck with the feng shui Fuck with Break a bitch back like the wood with a sensei Fuck did that nigga say Fuck 'em You wasn't 'round at the gym back at Lindley Beep Split Part II: Whole Time Intro Yeah Uh-huh Told my slime Earl, hold it, uh Yeah Hold that shit down and they gon' see it Uh-huh You gon' see it and now he see it Really held it down Uh-huh Feel me Uh-huh For real, uh-huh, uh-huh Verse 2 Beep Look Go I'm hated the most, I don't give a damn Go I used to swipe, finesse through the Skype Through the night, I would eat on the Grand Slam Swipe Don't be like me, I'm a millionaire Still ridin' dirty 'round town like Chamillionaire Don't be like me, woo These niggas softer than Build-A-Bear Penthouse, then make her eat with no silverware Shit, ayy, fuck, for real I'm crackin' this bitch like some software Go I got her boyfriend on my crosshair He talkin' down Phew, go the sound I'm in New York, need a loft here Damn Bitch, I'm a motherfuckin' boss here Damn No, ain't no nigga soft here Fuck 'em My niggas down, they came from the town Phew They let it off here Slatt Audemars Piguet, ice me Ice Where I be fuckin' this Pisces She wanna beat up a wifey She was down I like the Piguets, I like these emeralds Damn, them shits look like a icy Ice Different in school, check out the IQ I made more guap than the IT Shit, yeah Chorus Nah, whole time niggas hold shit down Frrt, frrt, hold it down Yeah, whole time niggas never lied, niggas keep a hundred rounds Whole time, frrt Yeah, home alone, nigga run up on me, do 'em like Macaulay Caulkin Shit, shit, shit, yeah Two-fifty for the Bentley coupe, I ain't drivin', leave it parkin' Fif' Verse 3 Lot of my choices was dumb shit Gang pull up on the block and they dump shit My niggas got red on their head Red on their head on some Trump shit Brrt I'm swervin' the 'Burban down Highland Skrrt Swervin' the whip on some drunk shit Swerve I'm not a fighter at all But I stomp his head, wanted him dead Prrt, prrt, prrt Won't get a foot in my conscience Poh These bitches hang 'round for the content Bitch It took me way outta context Oh My youngin' gon' blow like a Semtex Shit, beep Ill everywhere like some Germ-X Yee Just tell my nigga his turn next God Burn that shit down Don't play with me, bitch, I'ma burn up Burn Yeah Burn, young nigga, earn that Brrt Don't speak on no shit you don't know about Before you speak on it, go learn that Shit, shit, yeah Shit For real, keepin' this shit for real Beep Three in the two like Shaquille I don't even know how to feel Yeah, beep Chorus Nah, whole time niggas hold shit down Frrt, frrt, hold it down Yeah, whole time niggas never lied, niggas keep a hundreds rounds Whole time, frrt Yeah, home alone, nigga run up on me, do 'em like Macaulay Caulkin Shit, shit, shit, yeah Two-fifty for the Bentley coupe, I ain't drive it, leave it parkin' Fif' Outro Frrt, frrt Go Frrt, frrt Frrt, frrt