Sugar Rush (feat. Kid Dre & Chowder Band$)

Lookin' down low
In the wishin' well, wishin' well
Wish a nigga would
So I wish 'em well, wish 'em well
Lock a nigga up
Like a prison cell, prison cell
Ten toes down, I don't a kiss n' tell (nope)
Lookin' down low
In the wishin' well, wishin' well
Wish a nigga would
So I wish 'em well, wish 'em well
Lock a nigga up
Like a prison cell, prison cell
Ten toes down, I don't kiss n' tell (fuck no)

Fuck your new pack, better hit the sack
How your bars cheesy, but somehow you still forgot the MAC
I'm the Big Mac, but hold the ketchup
Lost in the sauce, make you think your special
I was kicking shit, like a kid in the womb
Applying that pressure, the bitches in bloom
The bloom is the flower, I am in my element
Blockin' my shine, you niggas is negative
Niggas is sensitive, no one competitive
Thoughts full, like my closet with skeletons
Close to my relatives, takin' Excedrin
Attention on me in the room like an elephant
I am the best of it, stuck on my preferences
Hatin' you niggas I guess I'm conservative
Don't know what murder is, but I'm still killin' this
And the executive's, takin' my ownership, yeah

Lookin' down low
In the wishin' well, wishin' well
Wish a nigga would
So I wish 'em well, wish 'em well
Lock a nigga up
Like a prison cell, prison cell
Ten toes down, I don't kiss n' tell (nope)
Lookin' down low
In the wishin' well, wishin' well
Wish a nigga would
So I wish 'em well, wish 'em well
Lock a nigga up
Like a prison cell, prison cell
Ten toes down, I don't kiss n' tell (fuck no)

Nigga, stop it
I been makin' plays like a nigga named Klay Thompson
Watch ya walkin, I ain't beefin' 'bout shit ('bout what?)
But a nigga got sticks
Thirty Glocks to match my fits
Thirty shots in different whips
It pay the cost to be legit
It pay the cost to be this lit
Band man, bad man, bad bitches all around me, what the fuck I do?
You come up nigga, now they stuck on you
And they ain't really even fuck with you
I pull it out and she gon' suck it too
Too fast, steppin' on the gas
If we gon' run it, he gon' come in last
Gucci fuckin' tags stuffed in Louis bags (in my bag, aye)
And a nigga poppin' tags (and a what?)
I'ma skirt off in a Jag, yeah, this shit fast, shit can never lag (it can't lag nigga)
And a nigga got the swag, first name Charles, last name Braggs
Real band man shit, young nigga goin' in I can't last
And I'm really of a perc, talkin' 'bout 30
I'ma shoot shots, talkin' 'bout. 40
Young nigga poppin', I'ma get more, aye
And I fuck on your whore, aye
And I'll leave that lil' bitch at the door, aye
Leave her beggin' for more
I'm that young nigga catchin' scores, catchin' plates (open a bag of chips)
Y'all niggas is doing the most, oh

Yeah, you need it come holler at me
But you gotta throw a dollar at me
Baby girl call me Pop but I am not your daddy
You need to fall back from calling me
Everytime you say you need me man you're stalling me
You're so motherfucking lame hoe
You need to stay up in your lane hoe
Ay, I'ma stick in my mothefuckin' lane, uh
Yo, yo, yo, yo, shut the fuck up man
Shut up, don't do that shit, shut your ass up