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Mike Dimes - WHISKEY AND WEED Lyrics



Mike Dimes - WHISKEY AND WEED Lyrics
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You ain't got nowhere to run
You ain't got nowhere to run

They counted me out
Shoutout to momma and poppa, I made me a M in the house
I don't think they can get to me now
How it feel to be talk of the town?
Just depend if you family or fan
I don't like it when they kissin' my ass
She suck on dick just because of my dad
She on and give top in the drop
No, you can't park in this lot
Is we f*ckin' or not?
Do you love me or not?
I had enough of these thots when I found out they was f*ckin' for clout
Make me a couple K and then I'm out
If I talk to the bank today, I make 'em drought
Just talked to granny, she said that she proud of me (she proud of me)
F*ck every nigga that doubted me (that doubted me, nigga)
Two hunnid K just to honor your majesty (facts)
Gotta make no mistake if you passin' me (facts)
Put the cam' in my face and they askin' me
"Not to be rude, is that your whip? Are those your guys?" (Huh?)
"You bought that house? Do you tuck your nine?" (Huh?)
"Would you ever trade that just to have this life?"
And I'm like, "Honestly, I don't even give a f*ck about these rappers though" (f*ck 'em)
"And obviously I don't give a f*ck about these model hoes" ('cause, f*ck 'em)
"And pardon me, you don't even know my momma, you don't get to call me bro" (on God)
I don't wanna be cool (straight up)
All these niggas always tryna be cool (straight up)
"What you doin'?" Just mindin' me and you
In my space, can you take a step or two?
I'm tryna make some progression (hol' up)
But think God tryna teach me some lessons (straight up)
They some me hate so we show Smith & Wessons
Nowadays, niggas do this for attention, I wish it was money
One time for the folks back home in their duffy
Mike Dimes run it up 'til the gang out the country, hol' up

Yeah, that's hard, f*ck it, uh (got nowhere to)
Bitch, I go by Mike Dimes, uh (got nowhere to)

You think you him with all that jewelry on, you flexed up, huh?
All of my hoes faker than silicone, I'm f*cked up and I'm knee-deep in
Tryna get in my zone, she a two-by-two model chick
Ig pics the only thing she on

Pour a deuce in the Fanta, I'm a real Texas phantom
I got different type of standards, did some things up on the camera, uh
Trench coat, all black, SUV, seven-seater
Pimpin' before pleasure, I make shorties take my misdemeanors

This style ain't for free, I'm Mike D pushin' with them Billy boys
The city boys, really should call us the f*ck up our kidney boys
We skinny but somehow we only seem to have the biggest toys
Don't list me when you talk about them rappers
They some little boys (bitch, I go by Mike Dimes)

Pour a deuce in the Fanta, I'm a real Texas phantom
I got different type of standards, did some things up on the camera, uh
Trench coat, all black, SUV, seven-seater
Pimpin' before pleasure, I make shorties take my misdemeanors

That's hard, Spiff
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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You ain't got nowhere to run
You ain't got nowhere to run

They counted me out
Shoutout to momma and poppa, I made me a M in the house
I don't think they can get to me now
How it feel to be talk of the town?
Just depend if you family or fan
I don't like it when they kissin' my ass
She suck on dick just because of my dad
She on and give top in the drop
No, you can't park in this lot
Is we f*ckin' or not?
Do you love me or not?
I had enough of these thots when I found out they was f*ckin' for clout
Make me a couple K and then I'm out
If I talk to the bank today, I make 'em drought
Just talked to granny, she said that she proud of me (she proud of me)
F*ck every nigga that doubted me (that doubted me, nigga)
Two hunnid K just to honor your majesty (facts)
Gotta make no mistake if you passin' me (facts)
Put the cam' in my face and they askin' me
"Not to be rude, is that your whip? Are those your guys?" (Huh?)
"You bought that house? Do you tuck your nine?" (Huh?)
"Would you ever trade that just to have this life?"
And I'm like, "Honestly, I don't even give a f*ck about these rappers though" (f*ck 'em)
"And obviously I don't give a f*ck about these model hoes" ('cause, f*ck 'em)
"And pardon me, you don't even know my momma, you don't get to call me bro" (on God)
I don't wanna be cool (straight up)
All these niggas always tryna be cool (straight up)
"What you doin'?" Just mindin' me and you
In my space, can you take a step or two?
I'm tryna make some progression (hol' up)
But think God tryna teach me some lessons (straight up)
They some me hate so we show Smith & Wessons
Nowadays, niggas do this for attention, I wish it was money
One time for the folks back home in their duffy
Mike Dimes run it up 'til the gang out the country, hol' up

Yeah, that's hard, f*ck it, uh (got nowhere to)
Bitch, I go by Mike Dimes, uh (got nowhere to)

You think you him with all that jewelry on, you flexed up, huh?
All of my hoes faker than silicone, I'm f*cked up and I'm knee-deep in
Tryna get in my zone, she a two-by-two model chick
Ig pics the only thing she on

Pour a deuce in the Fanta, I'm a real Texas phantom
I got different type of standards, did some things up on the camera, uh
Trench coat, all black, SUV, seven-seater
Pimpin' before pleasure, I make shorties take my misdemeanors

This style ain't for free, I'm Mike D pushin' with them Billy boys
The city boys, really should call us the f*ck up our kidney boys
We skinny but somehow we only seem to have the biggest toys
Don't list me when you talk about them rappers
They some little boys (bitch, I go by Mike Dimes)

Pour a deuce in the Fanta, I'm a real Texas phantom
I got different type of standards, did some things up on the camera, uh
Trench coat, all black, SUV, seven-seater
Pimpin' before pleasure, I make shorties take my misdemeanors

That's hard, Spiff
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Benjamin Mcgregor Wilson, James Austin Cyr, Michael Goode Jr., Spiff Sinatra
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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