Tipper Lyrics

Walk inside the jewelry store

Tryna cop a 50 piece Got my rod on me

They think I'm tryna rob the place, Nah ain't tryna rob today

Got hundreds on me today Ain't goin' back to them old days

Ain't goin' back to that old pay Got plenty raises

We goin' stupid in that Rari Revvin' horses, she givin me face

I'm makin' my way back to my place If I get that in, I'm goin' retarded

Shorty want vibe, shorty want flick up Goin' home, yeah, I lost my mind upstairs

Yeah, uh, somewhere, yeah Between a rock and a crack, rock and a hard place

Ballet parkin' that whip real straight That Valentino suit with some cranberry lace

Pulled up to your bitch and yanked her, yeah I had to hanky spank her, now she panky, panky

Headed over, yeah, I see that pain, yeah Ooh, about to rob the bank, yeah

Ski-ski down that block, rinse and repeat Mind your damn business

If you really about your business Got some money comin' in

Don't even like to talk about my business Up in Ballet with it, get your issue

It's the season, bitch, I'm itchin' off the opium

Dreams up in that suck-up on Olympic I'm spinnin' with my missile

Lost on the snow, got lost in the vibe Shorty come through, I blow on the whistle

She come through and she blow on the missile Yeah, cost her the blow, got high, so trapped out the rental

Now the snow got low, so my pockets swole

Yeah, big LDC gang shit, lil' boy, yeah, we trap on the low

Yeah, big LDC gang shit, lil' boy, yeah, we slammin' them doors

Know I'm Tiger Woods, I got my pole, yeah, pourin' them eight's or the fours

Yeah, give me a par with a birdie, pop me a yerky

Fell deep inside that void, I'm clutchin' my 30

Princess Peach, she throw it on me, she give me that mango

Chopper, eat yo' nugget, hit yo' stuffin' and yo' muffin

Boy, he a coward, yeah, he hold a stuffy

Make you two-step, yeah, you tango

Hit that yop, that ugh, guitar or banjo

Yeah, you need to tune in, tune in

Like Lil' Wayne came through, who him? That's Lope Dope

Yeah, he fluid, yeah, in many languages

No point in explainin' it

Not explainin' shit up on my pirate ship

I pull up on it, smokin' plenty zips with my lips zipped

I got that 30 on my hip

When I walk through and drift, it's a planetary shift, yeah

Pull up at yo' ship, then do yo' job for you and get yo' bricks

Skirt that dirty vert, yeah, dirty vert

Full of bloody skirts, yeah

Smokin' on that killer with my killers

What's the deal? Deal pickle

No Howie, no deal or, no dealer, yeah

Got my back up, no realer, no four-wheeler

Spittin' up on the mic and spillin' my cup, yeah

I'm a real spiller, yeah, a real dripper

Big bullets, they hit you, yeah

Big whips, hollow tipper