[Chorus: Yung Joc]
Catch me in the hood posted at the store
Catch me in the hood posted at the store
Catch me in the hood posted at the store pistol in my lap on the phone counting dough
[Verse 1: Yung Joc]
They know the name, they love the swag
When they hear this shit they gone say he's back
A hundred niggas we suited up
Did you here that? Bitch we tooled up
Sweet potatoes in the kitchen they cooking boy
Point em out, point em out, the Feds Lookin' Boy
I got beaucoup work, but I never seen the shit
I never touch the dope, bitch no finger prints
Posted in the Monte Carlo with the t's on it, I sold the davas on it
Went thrown some d's on it
Skittles and the thrax got it by the boat load city on lock bitch put it in a choke hold
We keep them chickens, Im a breast man, I'm not Usher Raymond
Joc don't confess man
And if you got some shit to got up off yah chest man you look sleepy, get some rest man
[Verse 2: Yung ralph]
I be posted on the block whether rain or sunny Yung Ralph Cleveland ave Mr. Get Money, Mr. Sick Wrist, Mr. Crazy Charm Drought season, work cost a leg and a arm
I be posted at the Amoco, getting cash yeah I'm parked at the pump but I ain't pumping gas
I be on a mission, making transitions on up the interstate with bricks in my transmission
Running back to back to cars like a track meet, army guns clip long like Shaq feet
They call me shell shawty and I remember that it's summer time but my wrist bring December back
I heard a rumor out say I won't do shit but I keep goons around me I ain't got to shoot shit
Joc roll the kush and I pour up the lean, billionaire status we repping swagg team
Catch me in the hood posted at the store
Catch me in the hood posted at the store
Catch me in the hood posted at the store pistol in my lap on the phone counting dough
[Verse 1: Yung Joc]
They know the name, they love the swag
When they hear this shit they gone say he's back
A hundred niggas we suited up
Did you here that? Bitch we tooled up
Sweet potatoes in the kitchen they cooking boy
Point em out, point em out, the Feds Lookin' Boy
I got beaucoup work, but I never seen the shit
I never touch the dope, bitch no finger prints
Posted in the Monte Carlo with the t's on it, I sold the davas on it
Went thrown some d's on it
Skittles and the thrax got it by the boat load city on lock bitch put it in a choke hold
We keep them chickens, Im a breast man, I'm not Usher Raymond
Joc don't confess man
And if you got some shit to got up off yah chest man you look sleepy, get some rest man
[Verse 2: Yung ralph]
I be posted on the block whether rain or sunny Yung Ralph Cleveland ave Mr. Get Money, Mr. Sick Wrist, Mr. Crazy Charm Drought season, work cost a leg and a arm
I be posted at the Amoco, getting cash yeah I'm parked at the pump but I ain't pumping gas
I be on a mission, making transitions on up the interstate with bricks in my transmission
Running back to back to cars like a track meet, army guns clip long like Shaq feet
They call me shell shawty and I remember that it's summer time but my wrist bring December back
I heard a rumor out say I won't do shit but I keep goons around me I ain't got to shoot shit
Joc roll the kush and I pour up the lean, billionaire status we repping swagg team
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!