Clip Up (Reloaded) - Sheek Louch, Styles P

Yeah

Donnie

Hey yo, Jada, what up, fam?

Huh, D-Block

Hey you ready, you ready to go in or what?

Yeah, alright, clip up then, nigga

Donnie

Hey yo

Can I get any higher?

They say Sheek on fire

I feel like Def Jam just signed (?)

I been a G since I was chewin' on a pacifer

I keep that Nick Cannon with me, no Mariah

They say the hood is mine

It’s like a nigga was born again to win

Sheek Louch, Donnie Frankenstein

My (?) is pretty as (?), ain’t it?

Porsche Turbo, about to get that bitch painted

Lucky Luciano, a.k.a. Piano Man

It’s the (?) keys, three or four a piece

Percocet Louch, bags of Oxys

These little niggas with me on the dust high

So I recommend your faggot ass to walk by

Or touch the sky

Or pray to Allah

Don Don, I’m all about the mighty dollar

Let’s keep it real, y’all know the deal

I’m worse than that BP oil spill

Ten thousand may get you a walkthrough, a little less dependin' who you talk to

I come through see these (?) lights

I’m a wolf, black version of Twilight

These rap niggas too big, they make-up bright (?)

It’s a rap stick-up, I heard your album

But like the city, I come back (?)

What’chu know about Don Don?

Fully automatic on the shouler with straps on

L dot, O dot, X the projects

Group homes, the chills, the street where we reps

We sorry if this ain’t for iTunes

D-block, this here’s for my goons

Cock back, clip up

Cock back, clip up

Cock back, clip up

Cock back, clip up

Broad day, no mask on, don’t make me clap it

My best customers is Souljah Boy and Ricky (?)

Just Casino, no spades or pitty pats (?)

It’s goin' down in the hood, nigga, plenty action

I’m doin' addition, you doin' subtraction

My crew on a mission, your crew is relaxin'

Guess who in the kitchen?

Guess who movin' packs in?

Public information, these are proven facts

If I ain’t with the O.G.s, I’m down (?), somewhere hot with no breeze

Dinner with young millionaires that sold keys

Now they just sit back, talk shit, and blow trees

My outfit’s unwearable, my shoes don’t fit you, my pain’s unbearable

Niggas that listen to my shit ain’t hearing you

I been that nigga, dawg, you always been terrible

That’s why the label ain’t flarin' (?) you

The day you decide to come through, we airin' you

Cock back, clip up

Cock back, clip up

Cock back, clip up

Cock back, clip up

Get accolades from the crooks

Macro, way before Apple made the book

Real gangster, all the honeys have to take a look

No pets in the buildin' but they have to take a wolf

Get at you but look at you, you’re a (?) on the hook

I’m a gettin' money nigga but I’m grimey with the (?)

Name a block that his jeweler’s on

It’ll be the same block his medulla’s on

New M-5, new Frank Mueller on

Yeah, I’m a boss but I still get my shooter on

Like a kid who you around, I take long shots, NBA shoot-around

Get the homie to pull the hoop around

Get your girl and pull the coup around

The only thing you missin' is the glitter

Follow niggas, we ain’t even talkin' 'bout Twitter

What’chu know about Don Don?

Fully automatic on the shouler with straps on

L dot, O dot, X the projects

Group homes, the chills, the street where we reps

We sorry if this ain’t for iTunes

D-block, this here’s for my goons

Cock back, clip up

Cock back, clip up

Cock back, clip up

Cock back, clip up