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    Clipse / Lyrics

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    "Comedy Central" Lyrics

    Clipse feat. Fabolous

    Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh

    (Verse 1 - Malice)
    Say dog, let's not get involved
    You don't wanna tango, I'll dress you in a halo
    Cock the gauge, polka dot ya braids
    Face you in a chrome fo', that'll lock ya legs
    And you can't move, I roll big and I can't lose
    They watch so hard ain't nothin' I do, that ain't news
    Carry it like I'm a stranger to the game
    I cut short any whisper that, en-danger my name
    I'ma toast on both coast, not for a joke

    I'm known in the streets on the account, I know coke
    And we got word in the street that the cops watch us
    But that don't stop us, we maneuvering move a little mo' cautious
    I hate to think that the dope game is my callin'
    Cause it got us singing lullaby's, to our fallin'
    Goodnight friend, until we meet again
    But for now and ya name, we re-up and eat again, uh
    I never front, like I'm something I'm not
    Well being broke well that's just, somethin' I'm not
    Y'all talk wit hatred, but I live off that
    And I lived off cocaine, way 'fore I lived off rap
    Feel me friend, if they could, they'd kill me friend (Yeah)
    Cause I weigh too much, learned not to say too much
    They couldn't take me in the CL, that's way too much
    And I'm too gone, y'all niggas can talk on

    (Verse 3 - Fabolous)
    They call me Mr., Pleasebelieveit, believe it please

    I put the pump in ya mouth, and help you breath with ease
    This guys in a hurry
    Ma I can't even fuck with you, If you ain't in the itinerary
    I don't know where dudes is buying they jewelry
    Why's ya ice cream, like it's made by Ben & Jerry
    Y'all the type of players, that be gettin' 2-day contracts
    E-mail snitch, got these in ya 2-way contacts
    I'm in the club sippin' on that new Zecongac
    In the number 9 Jordan's, with the duce, trey, arm back
    The street family so cool, we could pull bitches
    Even if it was July, and we had on wool britches
    I got them teflon's, that shovel the fo'
    That have under covers and po', with cover and slow
    The government know, the kid been lovin' the dough
    Since I was movin' white off the curb, and shovelin' snow, ghetto

    (Verse 3 - Pusha T)
    Ghetto streets so numb they call me Novocain

    I turn over caine, over and over again
    Hell, so much cliental, I could lose it all today
    Be back the next day, still up in the same way
    As I left ya, all in three gestures, down up and aim
    I can define death, better than Webster, wet ya
    Now bless ya, and off to my next venture
    Blocks so white, June look like December
    Winter time, snow everywhere, flow everywhere
    So much dough, I fly my hoes everywhere
    Ask him, Pusha T, push a ton
    Push a ton of that shit, that makes ya nose run (*Sniffle*)
    Yes I'm holdin', whether it's heat or coke in
    In the door panel of my four-wheel motion
    Ain't jokin', but I laugh how other flows convince you
    It's money, it's funny, it's Comedy Central
    Minds mental, others is made up stinsel
    When I'm on vacation, my babies ride in a rental
    I'm livin', they act as if I don't live it
    Saran wrap vaseline, so they can't sniff it
    Yves Saint Laurent knitted, shorts bermuda
    You would think they was poochie, if you over looked Medusa

    Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh

    (Skit at end of the song begins)
    This song was last modified on November 23rd, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc..
    Written by Chad Hugo, Jay Jackson, Terrence Thornton, Gene Thornton Jr, Pharrell Williams.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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