I Ain't Inna That Feat. Slick Pulla Lyrics by S.a.s.

I Ain't Inna That Feat. Slick Pulla

Mega:
Yeah Knox on the beat
Its a C.T.E./Dipset thing
U.K. to A-Town, stand up
Yeah, real talk
Writer, I see you
Verse 1
Mega:
Ima ball when it come to bitches, I pick and roll
Im in the Beamer with Christina, she dip it low
Give a fuck what ya ass thought
We the reason American bitches coppin passports
Oi Oi, London Boys, all the groupies sure
That we have more cheese than a Gucci store
And yeah Im on the pass tip
Beef, you wanna squash it
My man dem catch bodies like a moshpit, what bitch
You can see we grind
Believe me I am fly like the back of the wings of that DP9
Im in the air in that new Coupe
And see-through roof
F a infrared my scales got a bluetooth
Lots of pain when I rock the chain
It got me lookin like the Hunchback of Notredame, damn
Park up the Range, hop out wit a scarf in the rain
Hard in my game, its hard to explain
Hook
S.A.S.:
Fake shottas that act like they Gs
I aint inna that
Snitch, rats, imposters, and thieves
I aint inna that
Trickin them bitches, coppers and Ds
I aint inna that
We mash bees, the mobsters with me
Lets get inna that
Man takin my city for joke
I aint inna that
Actin hassadiity but broke
I aint inna that
You look silly, we pity you folks
I aint inna that
We keep it gritty wit millies we tote
Lets get inna that
Verse 2
Mayhem:
Whoa, oh no, Nos Caliente
Dressed to kill, Im fresh for real
In that new super car, rims stretched the wheel
We them young superstars givin vex the chills, ill
Extra trill, flip Os, move caine
Sex appeal, your chick knows whos name
Lets be real, I get dough and you lames
Couldnt strike the blow, I flip like my moods changed
Whoa, and Im gone again
Clean up, re-up and its on again
The mayors under, you ever seen May in summer
You would say he a major stunna
So whats going on mate, what the business is
Aint nuttin wrong, state what ya business is
This is real talk, we really living it
Hit your premises, and leave wit no witnesses
Hook
Verse 3
Slick Pulla:
Pulla man, I tote two smokin bounties
For the cash I might Snatch yo ass like Brad Pitt
Bake the layer cake, yea its all in the mix
Andre Agasee, its all in the wrist
Stand-up guys, dont fuck wit you queers
Wit toast we deliver the block, we go chez
Ask Rocky, he know bout them Georgia boys
He knows how we roll, strapped up wit a couple toys
Yeah, and I style on haters
When I yok on that block thing, they call it Snick Baters
Cookies in a plastic bag, vanilla wafers
Its a yes with the steel, well flambe ya
Hook