Hardo – Up & Buy Lyrics Ft. J.I.D Hurry
Up & Buy Lyrics By Hardo Feat. J.I.D Hurry
Man, almost that sh*t I said, don’t let me do that sh*t again
Trap
Real trap niqqa comin’ through your speakers, you hear me
Choppers that spray vest, killers that stay fresh
My shoes from Saks Fifth, them bricks, I pay less
My hoes got access, I’m from those spots, where’s bro action
Break work infractions, I gotta get it, no relaxin’
Listen, I get it details, got pills, no D12
I send the Gs mail, some hit the e-mail, got coke on presale
Wait seen the plug at, I stretch the female, then sell for retail
A niqqa really got them truckloads, ain’t got no CLs
But got a CLS, yes, but got them VVS, yes (That’s right)
But Hell no, I ain’t impressed
I just like the baguettes, I just like the Ralex
I just like to upset all these niqqas that’s hatin’
Drive by on their set
I count with calluses, I’m sick, dialysis
Ain’t with the coward sh!t, I got the Fowlers, B!tch
I get a flower, sh*t
I’m havin’ power trips, I’m up like towers, b!tch
My drip need towels for this
I put in miles for this, the beat got cows for this
That’s all from [?] sh*t, on bad money niqqas
I guess they counterfeit, listen
I keep that mask on me niqqa, that’s my counterfeit
Pull up in that Challenger ’bout challengers, that’s my analysis
Hold up, I’m flickin’ ashes in the ashtray
And I asked ’em where Ash lay, y’all ain’t call s
Now she sendin’ sad face, gettin’ money the fast way
Grindin’ hard to the last day, I run it up like its leg day, niqqa
Gimme all that cash, niqqa, hurry up and buy
Put it in the bags, bricks falln’ out the sky
I can make that money fly, that’s a bird
Cock a nine, if you heard you can’t die, you concur (Uh, ah, sh*t, yeah)
Gimme all that cash, niqqa, hurry up and buy
Put it in the bag, this sh*t falln’ out the sky
I can make that money fly, that’s a bird
Cock a nine, if you heard you can’t die, you concur
Weather the storm, get an umbrella ’cause it’s rainin’
Pu$$y cats and dog food, and the catch is comin’ for y’all foods
Accelerate, hit the RT, R2-D2
School of you niqqas, the one, two, plus you is Three Stooges
Word to my mucus, I spill juices
‘Bout to cop a noose ’cause I’m already strange fruit, and
If my diamonds is twinklin’ then they think I ain’t dangerous
Hangman, hangin’ there, bang, bang, bangin’ that thing, thing
‘Til my wrist sprained, maintain, ring janglin’, janglin’
When I swing the thing she like “Danke schön”
Pen pad pen all the pain, rap game daddy-daughter day
And the real niqqas all goin’ away ’til I came in with the party favors
All the flavors, modern day, super gamma with the ultra rays
New Atlanta for you monkey niqqas, got two banana clips, f**k a fade
Don’t tempt me, ga$$ed up
But I run empty with the five wired and the .45 on three wires, man
[Chorus: JID] Yeah, alright
Gimme all that cash, niqqa, hurry up and buy
Put it in the bags, bricks falln’ out the sky
I can make that money fly, that’s a bird
Cock a nine, if you heard you can’t die, you concur