[Intro]
(Made in Heaven!)
[Verse 1: Che]
I sip drank till I feel
Still looking for a way to get out
You said that you wouldn't tell your friends
Missed Chanel, man that couldn't fuck me up
I just hit my little plug for the re up
For the week, I might chill at your b house
They gon suck it up, bounced what I see it though
I lost feelings long time ago
Bullets, he gon feel em, he ain't going home
Chop em like a villain (chop em like a villain)
I've been smoking killa
I'm a rich nigga
Why this hoe acting so bitter
Drank poured til I hurt my liver
Tell this hoe that I ain't sentimental
I can't look at myself in the mirror
Bitch you know my problems disappear
I don't give a fuck about your feelings
I make money just to makе it clear
[Verse 2: Texaco]
I make money just to makе it clear
Fucking this ho, and I hit from the rear
Money on me when I'm spending my deal
When they come in the car, I can't
Trapped too hard I be
This hoe want to fuck, suck the meat
He ain't gang, so he can't compete
Little don't pour up the peace
I'll pull up on a nigga in sleets
I shoot at the house all week
I'll shoot a the casa all week
Niggas know who it is, me
No, and I can't lie
Pull up with this hoe with her cousin, that bitch fine
She just want to talk, but I just want to love, all mine
Baby when you love, be quiet I don't got no time
Pull up in a ZO6, but I forgot all my tires
This hoe want to talk to me, I dis-pitched bitch out the mind
All my niggas gang related, they go down or not
Told her start up when it's hot, whip in we'll get ready for a ride
(Made in Heaven!)
[Verse 1: Che]
I sip drank till I feel
Still looking for a way to get out
You said that you wouldn't tell your friends
Missed Chanel, man that couldn't fuck me up
I just hit my little plug for the re up
For the week, I might chill at your b house
They gon suck it up, bounced what I see it though
I lost feelings long time ago
Bullets, he gon feel em, he ain't going home
Chop em like a villain (chop em like a villain)
I've been smoking killa
I'm a rich nigga
Why this hoe acting so bitter
Drank poured til I hurt my liver
Tell this hoe that I ain't sentimental
I can't look at myself in the mirror
Bitch you know my problems disappear
I don't give a fuck about your feelings
I make money just to makе it clear
[Verse 2: Texaco]
I make money just to makе it clear
Fucking this ho, and I hit from the rear
Money on me when I'm spending my deal
When they come in the car, I can't
Trapped too hard I be
This hoe want to fuck, suck the meat
He ain't gang, so he can't compete
Little don't pour up the peace
I'll pull up on a nigga in sleets
I shoot at the house all week
I'll shoot a the casa all week
Niggas know who it is, me
No, and I can't lie
Pull up with this hoe with her cousin, that bitch fine
She just want to talk, but I just want to love, all mine
Baby when you love, be quiet I don't got no time
Pull up in a ZO6, but I forgot all my tires
This hoe want to talk to me, I dis-pitched bitch out the mind
All my niggas gang related, they go down or not
Told her start up when it's hot, whip in we'll get ready for a ride
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