Walkie Talkies Feat. Young Roddy
[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Uh, colder than the airport
Music hustling ducking the rap task force
Man, I'm just tryna cop my mans a Porsche
Whiten these drugs until my hands get sore
Maneuvering, Cuban link 24 karats
Who did you think was coming to dinner it wasn't the parent
Your nigga Spitta, smellin' like a pound of that killa
Open the window, these suckers lungs too tender
Homes I been in it, for more than a minute
Fathering styles, lot of the niggas is just my littles
Open air, in something rare
[Verse 2: Young Roddy]
Them niggas got blood stains all on the dollar bill
But they don't care they rinse it off 'til ain't nothin' there
Had to keep my kicks clean, may not get another pair
Shit hard where the fuck I'm coming from they play it raw
My God, I'm tired I've been running from the law
Even runnin' up the cars they want me dead behind bars, no sir
Momma got another gig moved on her own turf
Only fist fights around that time nobody got murked
Until they started playin' with bangers
Nobody got caught until they started pointing fingers
Sinking, ain't that a bitch
I stay fatigued down on some battle shit
I never tell I ain't on no Donnie Brasco shit
I'm on Sosa this life made me a soldier
I'm no Tony I never turn on my homie boy
This ain't no country for the wack and the phony boy
This shit could get wicked in this New Jet City nigga