Текст песни No Comment - Cash Kidd

No Comment

They got me on the tag too
Yeah
Ayy, that’s what—
Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin' 'bout
Ayy
Nigga drunk as hell off a Budweiser, hatin' on me to a runner
Crib come with a butler, put her out 'cause I don’t trust her
Pull up shootin' .223s at 'em like No Jumper
Feel like Tina Turner, I was on tour with a puncher
I’m Mr. Pull-Your-Panties-Up, bae, I ain’t got no rubber
Lil' nigga got his first ten, he Lindsey Hunter
Four-five box a nigga in like a Hummer
Somewhere in the mountains with Lil Nell smokin' Gushers
Hand-me-downs only time he feel how foreign shoes feel
Bought a condo just to BnB it in West Bloomfield
Pockets full of blue bills, probably why I’m rude still
Nah, bitch, we ain’t makin' love, I feel like Dru Hill
Drunk as hell, suckin' my bitch titties like her boobs real
I ain’t into shit but gettin' money, neck, and doin' drills
Ayy, we kept beatin' murders, we got RICO for them blue pills
Feds did a sweep, but I ride around with brooms still
This nigga still dirty
Know my dog’ll never talk, he got real courage
Finna take a knee, the opps is in the field hurtin'
Pink ten got her floatin', that’s my lil' Kirby
Huh, and since we on topic, if you got some business, better go on 'bout it
Life is good, I woke up to breakfast from a throat goblin
She the best with them pancakes, your bitch an old llama
Like a shoplifter, I snuck hammy in my coat pocket
When they catch you, I’ma be soarin', sippin' Wocky, boat ridin'
Say he got my drop but never been, he like Foamposites
I understand your brother shoes nice, but let’s see your closet
Don’t ask me 'bout these bum-ass niggas, no comment
Tired of hearin' 'bout 'em, everything is weird about 'em
Fresh to death, throwin' signs like I got a hearing problem
Huh, bitch pussy tight as hell, don’t even feel the condom
I got ate in the mansion too, damn, I feel Obama
I know you love that bitch and all, but I’m still gon' pop her
I’m so used to long backends, I’m like a limo driver
He found out I dogged the bitch and he still gon' wife her
I can’t give a bitch the world, but I feel Osiris
That just ain’t me, Louis cotton, say cheese
I’m a boss now, I was a boss then, baked beans
Brodie tryna slide, I’m like, «Let's get it,» feel like Tay Keith
Baow, gave your mans a headshot like he turned eighteen