Syrup Lyrics

Look

Cee Huncho

Yea

High as hell I just rolled up seven grams of my enemies

In the garden of Eden pickin' lemons off a lemon tree

If I could choose a super power it would be invisibility

.308 hit him in his head he died instantly

I ain't got the .40 cal imma 9 mil it

Cold with it but Cee Huncho hotter than a frying skillet

Let's see how fast you can run it up

Like a timed sprinting

In the same shoes for three days straight

Got my socks stinkin'

The choppa break his neck he need a readjustment

On Arizona avenue with gang smokin' a P of gushers

I ain't finna fall in love with you girl I ain't Usher

Big ass gun but only got a wife beater

I can barely tuck it

Get the Glocks in any show we go on tour wit the straps

You'd think I'm in NASCAR way I maneuver in the cat

I be beatin' up the pussy I'm an abuser to the cat

100 piece in Canada went to Vancouver wit' the packs

You can't take my style bro I got the secret formula

Group of niggas slidin' wit' instruments

That's an orchestra

I got love in the midwest and love in California

Imma still be talkin' shit even when I'm 41

Poured a thousand dollars worth of syrup

Just to fall asleep

Bustin' too much nuts back to back got my balls weak

Plug outta town I'm outta work it's a hard week

I ain't got no soft in right now it's hard week

Do a beatbox in her mouth got her jaws weak

Walk outside and see big mountains

Sun and palm trees

I don't give a fuck about yo roster we the top team

Ain't no Smith & Wessons around we the Glock team

Pop a goofy in his mouth he need oral surgery

You killed yo mans over a thousand

Damn yo morals worth a g?

Do a violent act then imma go pray to the lord in peace

Eight of Hi-Tek bust it open

Poured a four up in my cream

I'm ridin' on the instrumental imma floor it to the beat

We got the best roster lineup

You ain't scoring on my team

He religious so when he die then the lord he finna see

It might be a desert but imma make it storm up in AZ

Playin' wit my money fuck around and get yo ass beat

I might've said I'd do a feature witchu

But that was last week

Remember I had to hit licks when I was on my last weed

I got a ring for my current and a ring for my last team

It could be Sunday

I'll still put that shit on like a church service

Damn he got killed over a pint yo life worth syrup

Demons hot but they ah hit you with that cold blood murder

You a square come around I'll fold up yo whole circle

So much cough medicine in my cup I think my pop sick

Yo girl fat ugly and must you got a swamp bitch

Waiting for me to blow I'm just lookin' at the clock tick

Girly you ain't all that you can't even get my cock stiff

He sayin' that he's that guy but he is not him

I'm magical I could stare at a stone and make a rock spin

We first place you ain't even in the top ten

A thousand acquaintances but I only got like five friends