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Boldy James - Cecil Fielder Lyrics



Boldy James - Cecil Fielder Lyrics
Official




[ Featuring Tee Grizzley, Harry Fraud ]

Boldy, that's how you coming, my nigga?
Stay real authentic, D-boy shit, man, you know?
Let's get it

Can't recall what became, but shit that lame got paid to take the fall
Can't mention Boldy name for clout without getting my gang involved
Bird bath and stashing all the pape' hid in the basement wall
In the speed, gambling three weeks straight, was barely changing drawers
Yeah, every blue moon, tuck a two-eighty ball
When José hit me back, walked out the room, "I gotta take this call"
Couple points on them joints, I can't complain at all
Real D-boy from Detroit, came up on Ye and Doll
Probably should hang it up before them bitches frame us all
Nah, niggas ain't gang with us if we ain't felt no pain with y'all
Last grade completed was the eighth, but now it's cakes and all
Always been misunderstood but I was good at breaking laws
Pool sharking, got more Clio than Casey Hall
I shoot 'em out the way every time the Spartans play DePaul
Robbin' Peter to pay Paul for eighteen circles, that's a game of golf
Two bricks in my shirt, just tryna play it off, what else?

These bitches too possessive
They always put a five on it, bend the truth, and stretch it
Legend of Zelda, just met a new connection
Cut a few niggas out the circle, made a few corrections
Brick of Matilda, four-five Cecil Fielder
Yves Saint Laurents down in Vermont, I was the new Magellon
All of these niggas snitching, shit, I'm like, "Who you telling?"
It's 187 tout puissant extension 227

Ayy, when we was trappin', had to make it fun
Who can move they sack the fastest? Last one make the Coney runs
Talkin' shit won't fly, can't go for none, you gotta show me some'
Police chase me, that shit hurt, I had to throw my only gun
No refunds once you walk out the trap, but that shit jumpin' back
Dracos ain't gon' let me down, I shake your hand, you don't run from that
Twelfth birthday, my pops gave me a stack and that shit smelt like crack
Before God gave me all these dreams to rap, I dreamed of scorpion stamps
Me and brodie knew if they pulled over this Chevy
It's distribution, can't we say we usin', this bag we got too heavy
Fiend called the phone and got eight dollars, but he want a dime, shit petty
I don't turn it down, watch me lock in and stack it all the way to a Presi', nigga
You feel me?

These bitches too possessive
They always put a five on it, bend the truth, and stretch it
Legend of Zelda, just met a new connection
Cut a few niggas out the circle, made a few corrections
Brick of Matilda, four-five Cecil Fielder
Yves Saint Laurents down in Vermont, I was the new Magellon
All of these niggas snitching, shit, I'm like, "Who you telling?"
It's 187 tout puissant extension 227
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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Boldy, that's how you coming, my nigga?
Stay real authentic, D-boy shit, man, you know?
Let's get it

Can't recall what became, but shit that lame got paid to take the fall
Can't mention Boldy name for clout without getting my gang involved
Bird bath and stashing all the pape' hid in the basement wall
In the speed, gambling three weeks straight, was barely changing drawers
Yeah, every blue moon, tuck a two-eighty ball
When José hit me back, walked out the room, "I gotta take this call"
Couple points on them joints, I can't complain at all
Real D-boy from Detroit, came up on Ye and Doll
Probably should hang it up before them bitches frame us all
Nah, niggas ain't gang with us if we ain't felt no pain with y'all
Last grade completed was the eighth, but now it's cakes and all
Always been misunderstood but I was good at breaking laws
Pool sharking, got more Clio than Casey Hall
I shoot 'em out the way every time the Spartans play DePaul
Robbin' Peter to pay Paul for eighteen circles, that's a game of golf
Two bricks in my shirt, just tryna play it off, what else?

These bitches too possessive
They always put a five on it, bend the truth, and stretch it
Legend of Zelda, just met a new connection
Cut a few niggas out the circle, made a few corrections
Brick of Matilda, four-five Cecil Fielder
Yves Saint Laurents down in Vermont, I was the new Magellon
All of these niggas snitching, shit, I'm like, "Who you telling?"
It's 187 tout puissant extension 227

Ayy, when we was trappin', had to make it fun
Who can move they sack the fastest? Last one make the Coney runs
Talkin' shit won't fly, can't go for none, you gotta show me some'
Police chase me, that shit hurt, I had to throw my only gun
No refunds once you walk out the trap, but that shit jumpin' back
Dracos ain't gon' let me down, I shake your hand, you don't run from that
Twelfth birthday, my pops gave me a stack and that shit smelt like crack
Before God gave me all these dreams to rap, I dreamed of scorpion stamps
Me and brodie knew if they pulled over this Chevy
It's distribution, can't we say we usin', this bag we got too heavy
Fiend called the phone and got eight dollars, but he want a dime, shit petty
I don't turn it down, watch me lock in and stack it all the way to a Presi', nigga
You feel me?

These bitches too possessive
They always put a five on it, bend the truth, and stretch it
Legend of Zelda, just met a new connection
Cut a few niggas out the circle, made a few corrections
Brick of Matilda, four-five Cecil Fielder
Yves Saint Laurents down in Vermont, I was the new Magellon
All of these niggas snitching, shit, I'm like, "Who you telling?"
It's 187 tout puissant extension 227
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: James Clay Jones III, Rory W. Quigley, Terry Sanchez Wallace, Jr.
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management

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