Blow Sweat And Gears Lyrics - Curren$y

[**feat. Fiend**] 

Take this opportunity to roll up 

Locate your lighters 

[Verse 1: Curren$y] 

Laced, David Robinson's wally moccasins 

Matte black paint, polished rims 

Da Fuck you said I ain't hear it clear 

Too much money talking in my ear 

The end result of two albums in one year 

Blood sweat and gears 

Life in between the racing stripes 

We break day err night 

Alternative lifestyle 

I ain't looking for her pussy boy 

This trill JET shit, just enjoy 

That's yo wifey but she still a jet miss 

Give her direction to the tele and a check list 

Arriving shortly with the items I requested 

Reinforce the frame with that Jive nigga repellant my new plane 

Maintain the smoke 

Let ya take a couple grams home if you my folk 

Eyeball you with a lil something 

I ain't the weed man though 

But if you give me 15 minutes I'll call my folk, he'll be at the door 

Connecting four, marine batteries on one side of the trunk 

To go with them other four batteries that powering the pumps 

It's the juice and them cylinders that make the chevy jump 

You already know ain't gotta tell ya bout it partner 

Yo bitch stay talkin and you steady eavesdropping 

[Verse 2: Fiend] 

Rolling trees can do something for you 

No matter what you be goin through 

Execution flow 

Ten thousand grams of potassium 

Streets I roam, Mama praying like the Vatican 

My life feels like trade water in the ocean 

Who's standing in 

I'm dopes up moving drug trafficking 

Tell her get dough I'm getting fat again 

What I do to get my love warm, laugh again 

Say love don't give me your mouth again 

Got to movie later on, you'll be acting in 

Life is like free throws 

Some things ya gone miss 

Some things ya make 

Don't rush, don't wait 

I call pape time travel machine 

It can get ya there faster but it can't wake a permanent sleep 

I never compromise my fresh 

Smoke kush not cess 

Why cry I'm blessed 

Aw lend me the bail out 

The ones I call my ten dogs in a jail house 

Jets smoking in the club on tour 

Born in New Orleans all new friends bonjour 

I'm general building, international jones 

Louie scarf, diamond-wear smoking one with the homies 

Walls full of vinyl 

All bars are final 

Leather is your wrists first name, not Lionel 

International jones 

Curren$y the spitta 

Alchemist my nigga 

Tell them ladies go figure 

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