Текст песни Cookout - Atl Smook

Cookout

My diamonds, they hitting, look how they attack
I’m not Lil B, but I stay with the pack
Do not play tennis, but stay with them racks
Just like a soldier, that K on my back
Ain’t with the gang, you can’t hang where we at
If I draw down, then I smoke a new pack
He do something to me, he on a new tat
I’m in your city, I’m on a new jet
I got money, got a new Scat pack
I’m finna pick me up this little nat
I spent a petty rack, get it right back
I spent a petty rack, get it right back
Walk into Saks, I get it right off the rack, yeah
Shorty a giraffe, I just want her neck, yeah, woah
Hold up, you can’t be for real (Yeah), I can not stress about none of these
bitches
Diamonds, they keep me on chill (Yeah), I’m trying to stack these racks up to
the ceiling
I need me a lot, not a lil' (Yeah), I’m pouring up codeine, I’m cracking the
seal
What’s in my cup? That’s a oil spill (Yeah), I’m on the moon like I’m Neil
(Yeah)
Shorty wanna fuck with me, she wanna come over, she wanna know how I live (Know
how I live)
I told her that I got a minute to spare, right after, I gotta dip (I gotta dip)
I told lil' shorty that she bad as hell, I swear that her looks could kill (Her
looks could kill)
And that lil' boy, he keep talking 'bout beef, we put him right on the grill
(Right on the grill)