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Fruit Pack
by
Chris Travis
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Lyrics
Smoking packs, smell like fruit Pull up bitchI, they gon' shoot Hit a lit, f*ck a crew She gon' move, how she move Passin' sticks, up in school Now I'm headed, to the moon Got your bitch, off the shroom Now she headed, to her doom And I keep like 50K Niggas slaves, niggas bait And I keep my business straight Bigger plate, fish n' steak And f*ck with all bitches It don't matter, any race And I keep a large limit f*ck what any nigga say They like B, who the f*ck you be? Nigga, yeah, that's me For some beep, niggas Swisher Sweet Bitch is bitter sweet Hit my phone, lil' bitch what you need? I can't help your needs On my own, with my family tree, my niggas different breeds Think you tough, think you bout that, push ya' scalp back f*ck a bitch, I ain't bout that, where the cash at? Staying loyal, I won't doubt that Boy won't fly back, losing screws out your flapjack Get the f*ck back I'm on a move All you niggas snooze Monkey see and do Got your boo She might dust my shoes Clean the livin' room Coming soon All you niggas snooze f*ck the game, no rules I'm the truth and I play my dues Like I went to school
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