Fam Lay Rock-n-roll Lyrics

Rock-n-roll Lyrics

[Verse 1: Fam-Lay]

 Hmmm...yes sirrrrrr

 Rock and roll, man roll and rock

 I got tens, got twentys, got fifty blocks

 I got smoke to buy, coke for sale

 Sold much coke, got coke in jail

 In the white Rolls Royce with my man Pharrell

 This lil' nigga got beats too fresh to be stale

 But I'ma take you back to the early eighties

 When my cousin Stacey had the pearl Mercedes

 My aunt cousin Wack had the black on black

 Ac' coupe Legend with the gold in the back

 I was just a lil' young'n runnin' wild as hell

 Runnin' round wild trynta get that mail

 Lil' shorty dudes trynta learn the grooves

 I was twelve years old brought it to the school

 Cause I was quick to flip, quick to sell that shit

 You ain't from the hood, y'all don't know bout this

 

 [Hook 1]

 But if you feel me, throw your bows up (Star Track)

 Try to set up shop get glowed up

 Hey, I'm the candyman, I got mo' than frozen cups

 I got your chop top sour diesel roll-ups

 Fam! we can roll up (Star Track)

 But Fam! don't try to roll up (Star Track)

 Don't make me pull these motherfuckin' fo's up

 Cause it's like that

 

 [Verse 2: Fam-Lay]

 The fiends is dyin', things is lyin'

 Missin' on the streets, so the fiends is still buyin'

 Right on time and money on the mind and

 On them twenty-fo's, them bit-ches straight shinin'

 But y'all niggaz don't know bout this

 Fresh new kicks with the new outfit

 Got the all black top with the black on black

 You ever see me creepin, just back on back

 Cause I got that pump and it is gon' spit

 I ain't no punk and I ain't no snitch

 From a place on Earth called Huntersville

 Where people out there got love for real

 Got love for all who got love for me

 If a coward ever ran then it wasn't me

 I'll be on the curb movin' dubs and d's

 And if you ever bought a dub then it was for me

 I ever get caught then it was to be

 I'ma just make bail by my cousin E

 Back on the Porsche with the mobile phone

 Like eleven in the mornin' them hoes to go home

 Trynta score and get this shit off quick

 You ain't from the hood, y'all don't know bout this

 

 [Hook 1]

 

 [Hook 2]

 Aww shit, this is the part when the fight just start

 When the fists get to swingin' and the four-fifths spark

 And then the bitches get to runnin' and the bitch just scream

 And we spin off in Rolls and it's so damn clean

 

 [Verse 3: Fam-Lay]

 I stand on my block, the cam on the spot

 My hands in my pocket, both hammers is cocked

 Waitin' for a nigga to just act up

 My right hand big six, got my bait back up

 Niggaz lookin' all jealous, lookin' mad as hell

 Actin' like lil' girls, like tattle-tales

 Mad cause my right hand bad as hell

 I would've kept shootin', but I had a sale

 See, I'm a crime boss three sixty-five

 Lookin' for a Nina Ross, she just can ride

 Picked up my cash and slide all sweet

 Nigga tried to snatch ass, knocked his heart off beat

 Nigga talk trash like the shit all sweet

 Wont'cha all take the cash dogg, not off me

 Hustlin's in my veins - you cannot stop it

 Walkin' on the block with life in my pocket

 I'm trynta score and get this shit off quick

 You ain't from the ghetto, y'all don't know bout this

 

 [Hook 1]

 

 [Hook 2]