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Jim Jones

Pity In The Summer

 

Pity In The Summer

(album: El Capo - 2019)


New York's pretty pity in the summer
Rotten Apple, baby
And it ain't no pity in the rain
(Heatmakerz)
(Crack Music)
On my sundresses and cocaine
Flying into one coast and the other
Might score out here
Now that I really wish I could stay
Ya heard me?

Uh, uh
With all my efforts is so effortless (Like)
I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffing bricks
Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)
Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it
A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip
I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch
I buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)
Set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)
'Specially in the summer with a sundress
A forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)
Pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)
Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set
Uh, shit'll make your soul move
Feed a nigga bullets like he was eating soul food
Turn a hot boy into a cold dude
Still dancing on Coke, shit, that's my old moves

Uh, what's up, what's up?
Real niggas in the building, what's up, what's up?
We in the city popping wheelies with one wheel up
Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh

New York's pretty pity in the summer
And it ain't no pity in the rain
Flying into one coast and the other
Now that I really wish I could stay

I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off
Me and Jim, we woulda made a living smacking coofies off
The coupe, it cost, the roof is off
See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft
Why you mad? You knew we flossed
Drip hard, stupid sauce
Neiman Marcus, Louis Force
Fuck you, truly yours
I knew D-Firm, the real on it
Henny up for Kenny Hutch
Yeah, that's on my moms, bitch
Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip
King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch
Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour
Me and Big Meech really have bottle wars
Getting money, it don't matter what the bottom score is
Getting money, you can say shit like "Swallow, whore"
Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half
Flip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back

Uh, what's up, what's up?
Real niggas in the building, what's up, what's up?
We in the city popping wheelies with one wheel up
Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh

Camera saw what your crew made
Now they snitching and they saw, they too fake
I'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw
Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, "I've been a fan of yours"
Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly
'Cause the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside
Got half the block combing for a half a block
I'm in an apricot foreign with Trav and Sky Jordan
This junkie know I'm affiliated
Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin, I feel he ate it
They see me spitting and they feel he made it
So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated
The Cream still a favorite
My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated
If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated
That's how I go, nothing to play with
New York, nigga

Uh, what's up, what's up?
Real niggas in the building, what's up, what's up?
We in the city popping wheelies with one wheel up
Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh

New York's pretty pity in the summer
And it ain't no pity in the rain
Flying into one coast and the other
Now that I really wish I could stay

Fatto

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