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Never Do
Zip K


Never Do Lyrics (feat. Money Makin Nique)

[Hook: Zip K]
My niggas hella true aye
We hella wave
f*ck with my camp you hella thru
I'm Tryna get us hella paid
Them sheisty bitches catch that hella fade
That's just some shit we never do
And when we do we always do some shit these niggas never do
No mercy on these niggas that's some shit we never do
My niggas hella true aye yeah
We hella wave
f*ck with my camp you hella thru know that

[Verse 1: Money Makin Nique]
Dead Benjamins
Boy I got a thick stash like Fred Williamson
West Indian and my blood clot driving shoes is reptilian
Just copped the new Monclair with a lot of feathers like the head Indian
Outspoken and I'm still hustlin cause the money talks I just said billions
Dinner with white friends I'm laughin, cause I got the most dough I don't need dinner jokes
I'm a work of art on the birth getting head while I was on the phone with interscope
Stuff pradas on purpose
Like they spend a lot so they worth it
No broke shit and if it is
Bring some condoms would you please send the nurse in?
Okay Two gold rolleys the paired with jaundice
Smash your honey like Darrel Dawkins
I'm ill the album dumb But I'm so sick I had to prepare the hospice
Prepare the coffins I be there in office
With two bitches getting tossed to Marvin
Ordering hits cause ya man been talking
Talking shit but can he say it walking

[Verse 2: Zip K]
Started gettin older
Started growin colder
Hold the moments slower than some purple soda
Watch ya homies even when you geekin
Carl was still a cop over Urkel's shoulda
I know chosen soldiers that'll murk and mow ya
They'll forget ya for they get to know ya
I'm a different breed I got some different motives
But I flip the script to make consistent quotas
I was born ready aye
Yeah nigga aye
I was born ready
When I hit the VIP they drop the con-fetti
30 million people seen a young nigga gettin box in a box Chevy
Rest in Peace, Paul Walker
Cause I'm livin life in the fast line till an accident make us all walkers
We don't f*ck with none of y'all talkers
How this college kid from east Atlanta get respect from all these f*ckin mob bosses
Green faces old as Bob Barker
Shout my woes
Shout Dem Money Makin bros
Count my loafs, bread pillsbury dough
Stickin to the the code
Never fold, Never sold out
Nappy Pappy

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these lyrics are submitted by itunew3
Record Label(s): 2015 Clear Port Entertainment LLC
Official lyrics by

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