Boomshakalaka

Boomshakalaka （沙卡拉卡）（）-Starlito /Don Trip
Pull up shooting yeah I clutch .30s
Just like Curry but my cup dirty
Ill shoot a ni**a like Future ni**a
When Young Metro say you aint trustworthy
Does that make Trip Klay Thompson
In the kitchen like Action Bronson
Racks on me like Im Blac Youngsta
Im an All-Star with cash money
NASCAR full of fast money
I f**k a b**ch for her tax money
My bread dirty like Murphy Lee
But Im Marshawn Lynch if you at me something
Im so cold I need a space heater and a pair of mittens a chinchilla
Left hand shooter like James Harden
But Im good with the right like Quentin Miller
Blade sharp as a potato peeler
My clip long enough to say No Limit
My babies even like balling out they say Daddys pockets got play dough in it
This my real life man it aint no image
All these rappers with the same olgimmicks
Talk that talk but they dont live it
We the Dream Team 92Olympics
Pistol on me like Im Pete Maravich
Shooter like Im Peja Stojakovic
You would think I play for Gregg Popovich
Moral of the story you aint robbing sh*t
Strapped like Im ready for an apocalypse
Two percent tint on my rocket ship
Beam on my bitwith a carbine kick
And a clip longer than a f**king hockey stick
Two 9s on me Im Jermaine Gretzky
Ten pounds of sour thats a power play
Tryna get a check and stay out the penalty box
Ive been grinding 48hours a day
I caneyeball it and tell you how much it weighs
Sell you dry wall and tell you Have a nice day
On the Eastside thats the games we play
But Ive been trying hard to stay out of the way
I know some bad b**ches thatll lie to your face
Tell you that they love you then send my guys to your place
Naaah and they dont bake
Them niggas coming for them pies and that cake
And all they wanna know is the time and place
Money in the picture Ima find a way
I checked my schedule my time is great
Its pay day its my kind of day
Im back in the b**ch like I moved away
Laughing at the b**ches that I used to date
B**ch told me to buy her a Gucci bag I told her
Shut the f **k up like Juicy J
This hoe must be hallucinating
Id rather throw all my loot away
Id rather burn all the cash I got if I tricked Id never recuperate
Id be somewhere in the ICU
Breathing through a muthaf**king oxygen tube
Craig like Craig what happened to you
Im dying cause I bought some b**ch some shoes
They lie so often I get confused
Im on my grind yeah my office is my kitchen too
Everybody with me tote my b**ches too
You might get hit six different tools
A .45a .40Glock 9FN five seven and a couple Mac 11s
Overnight trip yeah we still pack the weapons
Though we might trip extra clips for protection
This aint what you want but thats just a suggestion
Make it out alive even if I get arrested
Tell a hundred lies but I wont give a confession
I could teach a lesson on discretion Lito