Pryde - 6 Foot 7 Foot lyrics

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Pryde - 6 Foot 7 Foot lyrics

[Intro:] Yea I'm goin' in [Verse 1:] Excuse my persona, green tea Arizonas Skins cappuccino, with a lighter mix of mocha Neck ain't even froze up, but I'm loco with my loca Plus my wifey drive me crazy, so I call that girl my chauffeur Hit the beat, Sammy Sosa Swagger leaning like a post-up She sitting on my lap and says its comfy like her sofa Shooting like a pistol, but she holds me like a holster She say I got The Knack, so I call her My Sharona These rappers never get it, I tell them get off my scrotum They worshipping my pole like it's religious, totem Isn't livin' so nice You dudes are right behind my jeans If your life's great, then mines is greater with no tiny cheese Ya'll confuse my eyes and think that Pryde just be here chinese Got your shorty bending down like she's trying to tie her sneaks Prizzy keep on doing this Pulling crazy fusion chicks Repping for my asians, til' the day that I die stupid rich Hundred thousand youtube hits So haters will all get destroyed Young Prizzy or Young Pretzel Boy (yeah!) [Verse 2:] Oh my god where did my head go Hope the fans vote me No Pedro Gotta race in the game, and you dudes all last I'm Usain Bolt, and your leg broke Futuristic, I ride with the best flow Been doing this since the get-go Inspectah Deck I'm the best, a threat Got that Wu-Tang check yo neck flow Wait, stop the instrumental Put the beat back on, let me get dough Put the dubs in the air like you just don't care Even if I ain't repping for the West Coast Don't you like it when I go fast Broke boy still repping with no cash Never smoke, but the boy got dope raps All you be doing is hating, go withhold tax The drama popper, I'm kinda proper You gotta watch it Back I'm flawless, go s** my willy willy no wonka wonka Get me wrong on fifty songs k** them all physical If G's move in silence, then I'm louder than an intercom If you hate the new me, go find a new Russ Prizzy be that big yellow rolling, no school bus I'm about to wreck the beat Cook it with no recipe Yes I do light up like Thomas Edison invented me Yeah the rhymes are hot, but my whole spirit is Decembery Mars Music, NHB [Verse 3:] Got no paper because my money always be on absence Homie, real geeks don't wear non prescribed gla**es Never touched the pot, not a fan of ceramics Wipe you away greasy rap artists, I'm fantastic I'm about as good to Canada as Steve Nash is Or like Drizzy Drake, or like Michael Buble cause I'm that sick Ma**ive, my fame's growing slowly on the internet I'm considered as the best and I ain't reached a milli yet Ask the freaking fans they'll freaking say that Pryde is freaking fresh Not allowed to swear, but your girl said I'm the friggin best Go hard when I roll though Rappers don't want beef, they tofu Dudes going Super Sayian like Goku k**ing all these beats, that your produce right k**ing all the time, plus I got this game steady on my mind Hitting hard on ya'll, let me take my time All you little Bad Boys, ain't go no Shyne I'm really weird, I'm Pryde, and your girl really wants me deep inside So I tell her no girl, get a decent mind And I k**ed it, you dude's say, oh my God (God!) I be k**ing major contracts I be signing six foot, seven foot, thats my height for when I'm rhyming Because in this rap game I'm a giant , yeah [Outro] Well alright, ya'll gotta watch out for my album man I just felt a little pissed off I had to do a couple bars for you Six foot, seven foot, six foot height China on the boards, oh yeah Mars Music