Mike Shabb & Boldy James - Big Piranhas
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{Intro: Boldy James}
Cray, yeah, Shabb
Where we at gang?
{Verse 1: Boldy James}
Real stepper, hookin' up, I’m something like a meal prepper
Cookin’ up a (?...) same size as a bell pepper
All of these chirps got the (?...) on my tail feather
Most my creatures got a fed profile and a jail record
New Off-White VaporMax, I’m on my fourth run
Posted in the slums with that stick out like a sore thumb
The 580 cherry color but the Porsche plum
All the work A1, ain’t talkin’ bout no Force 1’s
Rain, hail, sleet, snow, we trap in all weather
Felon in possession, never had a alcohol tether
The biggest bully with the fully trigger like a pulley
Hand tap him with the (?...), we givin’ niggas nookies
Everyday I put on that shit, this ain’t just for the ‘Gram
On the hill with L. Boogie and the Boogeyman
Champion hoodie out the trenches, now we off the richter
Cause all a nigga do is win, they should call me Victor
{Chorus: Boldy James}
Just from his persona, ain’t talking Wembanyama
Now everything is Gucci, Louis, Lenci’, Fendi, Prada
Old money still spin, I been getting (?...)
In a small pond full of guppies, I’m a big piranha
I’m very humble and I’m modest but I’m with the drama
That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, I get too many commas
Middle finger to your honor, we green this iguana
Don’t got shit to do with the price of tea in Tijuana
Yeah, ay, fuck do that got to do with the price of tea in China
Uh huh, fuck do that got to do
Whatever
{Verse 2: Mike Shabb}
Remember walkin’ on my block in my younger days
Smokin’ more pot to fade the hunger away
I used to watch the clock, make sure the (?...) ain’t late
Creepin’ at night like roaches on the bed frame
He was speakin’ at life, head floatin’ in the airways
Now he beatin' his wife, clothes in the staircase, talkin’ bout a fair game
Can’t even wrap his head around the fact he got a square face
Cocaine on the middle table like Jose
Coltrane playin’ in the back like the old days
I ride with ghost face killers in the old range
Blow the whole frame like Don Cornelius did Soul Train
They on the ‘Gram talkin’ bout they want the old me
Like they know the old me
Retaliation never sweet
We pull up with your whole street
We ain’t backin’ down on no sh-
{Chorus: Boldy James}
Just from his persona, ain’t talking Wembanyama
Now everything is Gucci, Louis, Lenci’, Fendi, Prada
Old money still spin, I been getting (?...)
In a small pond full of guppies, I’m a big piranha
I’m very humble and I’m modest but I’m with the drama
That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, I get too many commas
Middle finger to your honor, we green this iguana
Don’t got shit to do with the price of tea in Tijuana
Yeah, ay, fuck do that got to do with the price of tea in China
Uh huh, fuck do that got to do
Whatever
{Intro: Boldy James}
Cray, yeah, Shabb
Where we at gang?
{Verse 1: Boldy James}
Real stepper, hookin' up, I’m something like a meal prepper
Cookin’ up a (?...) same size as a bell pepper
All of these chirps got the (?...) on my tail feather
Most my creatures got a fed profile and a jail record
New Off-White VaporMax, I’m on my fourth run
Posted in the slums with that stick out like a sore thumb
The 580 cherry color but the Porsche plum
All the work A1, ain’t talkin’ bout no Force 1’s
Rain, hail, sleet, snow, we trap in all weather
Felon in possession, never had a alcohol tether
The biggest bully with the fully trigger like a pulley
Hand tap him with the (?...), we givin’ niggas nookies
Everyday I put on that shit, this ain’t just for the ‘Gram
On the hill with L. Boogie and the Boogeyman
Champion hoodie out the trenches, now we off the richter
Cause all a nigga do is win, they should call me Victor
{Chorus: Boldy James}
Just from his persona, ain’t talking Wembanyama
Now everything is Gucci, Louis, Lenci’, Fendi, Prada
Old money still spin, I been getting (?...)
In a small pond full of guppies, I’m a big piranha
I’m very humble and I’m modest but I’m with the drama
That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, I get too many commas
Middle finger to your honor, we green this iguana
Don’t got shit to do with the price of tea in Tijuana
Yeah, ay, fuck do that got to do with the price of tea in China
Uh huh, fuck do that got to do
Whatever
{Verse 2: Mike Shabb}
Remember walkin’ on my block in my younger days
Smokin’ more pot to fade the hunger away
I used to watch the clock, make sure the (?...) ain’t late
Creepin’ at night like roaches on the bed frame
He was speakin’ at life, head floatin’ in the airways
Now he beatin' his wife, clothes in the staircase, talkin’ bout a fair game
Can’t even wrap his head around the fact he got a square face
Cocaine on the middle table like Jose
Coltrane playin’ in the back like the old days
I ride with ghost face killers in the old range
Blow the whole frame like Don Cornelius did Soul Train
They on the ‘Gram talkin’ bout they want the old me
Like they know the old me
Retaliation never sweet
We pull up with your whole street
We ain’t backin’ down on no sh-
{Chorus: Boldy James}
Just from his persona, ain’t talking Wembanyama
Now everything is Gucci, Louis, Lenci’, Fendi, Prada
Old money still spin, I been getting (?...)
In a small pond full of guppies, I’m a big piranha
I’m very humble and I’m modest but I’m with the drama
That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, I get too many commas
Middle finger to your honor, we green this iguana
Don’t got shit to do with the price of tea in Tijuana
Yeah, ay, fuck do that got to do with the price of tea in China
Uh huh, fuck do that got to do
Whatever
