KB Rock - SCALE Lyrics

Yup yeah
Im there with it
Bitch I Chop it hit the scale
Chop it chop it hit the scale
Baby face boy he an angel
But he sure be raisin hell
And when it come to pressin issues
Let that chopper wish him well
Chip a nickel off the brick n bag it
Then go make a sale
I chop it hit the scale
Chop it chop it hit the scale
Baby face boy he an angel
But he sure be raisin hell
I feel like Christ like when he bled
Because he still ain't never fell
Im fishin for that bag
I bust a clam right out the shell
Remember that first taste
The feeling that bring out the best on your worst day
I'm shuffling round and moving in crowds
That play it old school like a midway
And I comprende
The game to be sold and not told at my display
So I keep face
My shit in her mouth cause she like how my dick taste
And I keep quiet
She asking about my connect and I keep lying
She keep pryin
This bitch love to talk if I tell her we both dying
My brother said let her up
Better f*ck her and leave than to write me a letter bruh
This shit is ridiculous
Bitches be bringing us down with the titties and cameras
Pour me up
Convos with extendo got my money up
But not enough
Connect on the 10 where I had plenty love
They locked me up
Trynna throw me 20 bitch I'm calling bluffs
Hold me down f*ck it hold me up
Bitch etcetera
Chop it hit the scale
Chop it chop it hit the scale
Baby face boy he an angel
But he sure be raisin hell
And when it come to pressin issues
Let that chopper wish him well
Chip a nickel off the brick n bag it
Then go make a sale
I chop it hit the scale
Chop it chop it hit the scale
Baby face boy he an angel
But he sure be raisin hell
I feel like Christ like when he bled
Because he still ain't never fell
Im fishin for that bag
I bust a clam right out the shell
So many I gotta serve it for
Number one person I'll say is myself
What in the f*ck am I provin if I ain't gon use it
Just buy it and put on a shelf
I ain't the best but I'm getting close
Bitch I'm a writer I don't need a ghost
I'm the supplier they wanted at trial
If imma get higher I don't need a rope nope
Want it I put in that work yeah
Count what I got out the dirt bread
I'm an influence I do it not say it I move it if she don't give no head
Top in the whip while I serve yeah
Front me a pack till the first shiii
I'm moving too quick and with court on the 5th imma need it up front homie instead
Bundle in seran in the house
Gotta make it flip
Near another blip
Nother pack that mean another trip
Before I double back double check
Tucked and wrapped the zip
Loadin up the drum ain't no band but that percussion hit
Chop it hit the scale
Chop it chop it hit the scale
Baby face boy he an angel
But he sure be raisin hell
And when it come to pressin issues
Let that chopper wish him well
Chip a nickel off the brick n bag it
Then go make a sale
I chop it hit the scale
Chop it chop it hit the scale
Baby face boy he an angel
But he sure be raisin hell
I feel like Christ like when he bled
Because he still ain't never fell
Im fishin for that bag
I bust a clam right out the shell
Yes I
Bust the clam right out the shell yes I
Bust the clam right out the shell uh
Im there with it