1999 WRITE THE FUTURE - MiNt cHoCoLaTe Lyrics

(One, two)
(One, two, three, four)
Brrt
Ayo, ayo

Ayo, my shooter hitting everything
Rollin' off the wet (ah)
Stressing in that cell used to have to call collect
Now tassels on the Celine leathers, I'm on a jet
I'm a land on the Rec, y'all still sly out that stretch (ah)
Three-twenty a month laps around the sun
My shooter hummin ain't no sunshine
Loading up a drum
Everybody father, coke in a agua
Had to lay low, I had a bitch in Cheektowaga (ah)
At minimum, I had fifty soups in the locker (ah)
Touch mine, stab you off adrenaline proper
I'm from the east side of Hell
Where the Devil way Dolce
The Mac clip don't stop, Marni slippers all bozy
In the law library you should've heard what Black told me
Worthy pack ya shit up, pulled off in a Rosey
Thank God God chose me, the baddest bitch you ever seen
Told her, "Don't touch the pony"
(Super FlyGod)

Look, look, ah
Pyrex Vision kitchen wear
I was whippin' got my wrists' like
I won the strongest man competition
Send the brodie on the slider mission
All my oppositions they talkin' tough but they was not convincing
Thirty shots'll rinse 'em
Just looked at my account, so more direct deposits hit it
Got my richest still in my prime but I just had the opp to miss it
I had some setbacks, but I remained optimistic
I'm out the trenches, hot pockets, mystics
Now it's lobster dishes (talk to 'em)
I know bodyin' these beats is what you know me for
All gold, Prezi, but I got mines out the Rolly store
Why you think the junkies always shooting like they Kobe for? (Huh?)
Dope too strong, why you think they always OD for? (Woo)
I gave 'em a style, gave 'em a lane, that's what they owe me for
Put some homies on and gratitude, they ain't show me at all
(F*ck them niggas though, bro)
Celine tote for my broad, Margiela coat in the fall
Scatterbrain, open the jaw, y'all niggas know who the God
Machine, bitch