(Intro: Boss Hogg)
(*eating a bag of chips*)
Shit, niggas is hungry in this motherfucker
I'm talkin' about for a bag of chips youknowhatI'msayin' dog? I don't think you do
Nigga I ain't talkin' bout Bruffells nigga
I ain't talkin' about Pringles, Doritos or Freedos nigga
I'm talkin' about a bag of chips, oh you don't know what I'm talkin' about?
Yo Boss make it Hogg, run it down like dat there
(CPO)
I'm in this mode to gettin' a code - infra-red
I bust legal presidents - preferrably dead
I've examined my financal situation and found shit
I'm incredibly grose, fuck it, it's goin' down
I, investigate the blue prints of the plot
To eliminate inferral incidents of me gettin' got
Double check the plan it appears unflossed
So without lettin' your Benz commence there's loads
Jump in a ride, and it gets on to the designated
Spot got the glock, cock 'em highly motivated
Kick in the door, lettin' all the niggas try to flee
You guess correct, this is a robbery
Don't nothin' move the money as I engage in theft
Stick the cash in the sack, exit stays left
Um, police lookin' for the description who fits
Fat black motherfucker with big ass bag of chips
(Chorus: CPO)
Now I'm just lettin' my point be made
I simply gots ta, gots ta get paid
The one and only guy that'll search the grain
Don't stop, now until I gets a bag of chips
Nigga, I'm just lettin' my point be made
I simply gots ta, gots ta, gots ta get paid
The one and only guy that'll search the grain
Don't stop not until I gets a bag of chips
(E-A-Ski)
Ummmmhmmmm...
I'm twistin' corners in the Beamer
I'm dodgin' the police they want me fiendin' with Mr. Meaner
And I'm lookin' for this bitch, I heard she got credit cards and shit
Blank cheques and money orders, this bitch is gettin' rich
Plus her niggas' gettin' ki's like a locksmith
She's slippin' at the Fetti, tell her sore I grab my glock swift
Meeked up around her neck and told that bitch to drive home
Give up that credit cards, purse, gold and that mobile phone
We get to crib this is on the alarm
Open up that safe and I just might let you escape with no harm
I lied, cause I beat that bitch badly with my pistol
Got some ki's, some keys and I was in the wind like a whistle
I kicked the Rockwilder and hopped the fence
Then I signalled Gin, Cocktail, and torch that niggas resident
And left my note on his six-hundred Benz
Thanks for slippin' with my bag of chips, thanks for the ends |