Jungle Book by Tapper The God Lyrics
[Hook]
Man I got three different bitches, and not enough problems
Dirt on my timbs, a little sour in my pocket
Could care less, couple brownies while I'm drowsy
If your shoes ain't dirty, I ain't fuckin witcha
[Verse 1]
I'm sorry for the wait, for the bullshit
She got tats on her waist, I play bars from my mixtape
She the reason for some songs on my mixtape
Rent due 14th of December, came through 23rd of November
Coke habits and sex addicts don't mix, Maryjane and vodka for the kids
We grown now, I'm 18 or whatever it is
Still too young to get married and shit
But we either, fucking till the sun comes up, or doing nothing till the sun comes up
I hate sleeping, she hate dreaming
I hate fiends, but she love fiending
I smoke trees for no reason, life's great
Shit. That used to be what I would always say
[Hook]
I got two bitches, and not enough problems
Dirt on my timbs, a little sour in my pocket
Could care less, couple brownies while I'm drowsy
If your shoes ain't dirty, I ain't fuckin witcha
[Verse 2]
Playing with matches and cigarette burns, man life short but you live and you learn
Pill poppin cause there's nothing to do, only talking to me, but you in love with the crew
White girls, they ain't as sweet as they once was
Little salt in your tea like you fucked up
Little walks on the beach when its late, make it back to the tree around eight
I got hoes on the line, I got you on my mind
Little henny in my system, I got weed on my side and its stinkin like a mothafucka
Fog fresh, song straight from the heart
My line never flat like that michelin boy
I'm lying, my pockets packed like that michelin boy, and my tires always flat because I just can't afford it
Im tired of running, I'm tired of loving
I'm tired of mixing, I'm tired of sipping
I'm tired of fucking, I'm tired of druggin
I'm tired of missing, I'm tired of working
I'm tired of tripping, I'm tired of being different
Bitches still don't listen, I bet you still don't get it
Dirty timbs in the sand, flip flops in the mud
[Hook]
I got no bitches, and too many problems
No weed, so they force my to solve it
Dirt on my timbs, flush all my brownies down the toilet
I'm lost
At what cost
Yeah
Man I got three different bitches, and not enough problems
Dirt on my timbs, a little sour in my pocket
Could care less, couple brownies while I'm drowsy
If your shoes ain't dirty, I ain't fuckin witcha
[Verse 1]
I'm sorry for the wait, for the bullshit
She got tats on her waist, I play bars from my mixtape
She the reason for some songs on my mixtape
Rent due 14th of December, came through 23rd of November
Coke habits and sex addicts don't mix, Maryjane and vodka for the kids
We grown now, I'm 18 or whatever it is
Still too young to get married and shit
But we either, fucking till the sun comes up, or doing nothing till the sun comes up
I hate sleeping, she hate dreaming
I hate fiends, but she love fiending
I smoke trees for no reason, life's great
Shit. That used to be what I would always say
[Hook]
I got two bitches, and not enough problems
Dirt on my timbs, a little sour in my pocket
Could care less, couple brownies while I'm drowsy
If your shoes ain't dirty, I ain't fuckin witcha
[Verse 2]
Playing with matches and cigarette burns, man life short but you live and you learn
Pill poppin cause there's nothing to do, only talking to me, but you in love with the crew
White girls, they ain't as sweet as they once was
Little salt in your tea like you fucked up
Little walks on the beach when its late, make it back to the tree around eight
I got hoes on the line, I got you on my mind
Little henny in my system, I got weed on my side and its stinkin like a mothafucka
Fog fresh, song straight from the heart
My line never flat like that michelin boy
I'm lying, my pockets packed like that michelin boy, and my tires always flat because I just can't afford it
Im tired of running, I'm tired of loving
I'm tired of mixing, I'm tired of sipping
I'm tired of fucking, I'm tired of druggin
I'm tired of missing, I'm tired of working
I'm tired of tripping, I'm tired of being different
Bitches still don't listen, I bet you still don't get it
Dirty timbs in the sand, flip flops in the mud
[Hook]
I got no bitches, and too many problems
No weed, so they force my to solve it
Dirt on my timbs, flush all my brownies down the toilet
I'm lost
At what cost
Yeah