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SAMBAS Video (MV)




Performed By: Chunk
Language: English
Length: 3:42
Written by: Brody Burton




Chunk - SAMBAS Lyrics




Hopping in the wagon the squad is rocking Adidas Sambas
Colin on the aux I can toler toxins while Molly Rocking
Don't extend an offer if pocket watching is in your options
Dollars for a profit I f*cking off them and spend it proper
I f*cking off them then I spend it proper
The man ain't never lending any paper to the bottom
Pit you up against each other rumors spreading turn to gossip
Something about it churns the feelings in my guts to tangled knots and
I guess I'm out of the loop
My whole life been a mixed can of alphabet soup
The B's turn to G's this ain't no regular flute
My boof turns suits into regular dudes
I go and walk in the bar like
The raw life I'm living it
Hard like a knock on your door
In the villages
Stalling the fight let the kid f*cking finish him
Garden of mine fed a whole pack of citizens
Yeah, and they gon tell me that they want that
Change out your lunchbag
Range of a scumbag
Chained to a lame babygirl you should dump that
Summertime loving get away and never run back
Get away and never run back home
In the blazing heat of summer days I been that cold
Hating me smoking dueces bitch you been asshole
9-5 then 5-9 I'm walking Earths plateau
You follow in shadows, you really copied
I manufactured beats and mastered crafts I really jockeyed
I tend to pass the gas and we ain't talking about the body
Drinking hot tea in your lobby while I'm practicing karate
And I'm stepping in my sambas
Smelling like a rasta
Making tortellini pasta
Fresher than a guava in the sun that's out in florida
I'm gon knock you off your rocker if I make a couple dollars
Watching boondocks in my blue crocs
New opps smoking moonrocks I sold them last weekend
And on my new shit yall stay been sleeping
Quarter pound I turned it to an ounce and start tweaking
My homie leaking all my music told him not to do it
These phonies talking on the phone but ain't got shit to prove it
Remember puffing skinny J's when I was making Stoopid
Now I face a wood of kush and lay around just looking clueless
These mother f*ckers douches
Truth is I'm an alien
You oozing goo from holes in body armor it's hilarious
Who the hell was saying shit about me I'm just curious
I walk around in sandals like a Greek that's on a chariot
CHUNKY got the shovel and the hole that's meant to bury us
Various I'm the sort of type to break the barrier
Ferry is making me sick I'm gonna throw up
CHUNK WORLDWIDE got the itch I'm gonna blow up

You cannot knock me off my wave in crunch time
Blowing haze for f*cking days as I intake some sunshine
Aye, here to stay I'll keep my patience in mind
Taste a little rage I might behave out the lines
See me element I don't want to hear it
Raking flakes then crush them up to raise a couple spirits
Bitch the mustard with the truffles got me flustered in the clearance
If the patties turning rotten Ima feed them to the deers
Papers start as notes then turn to cones that's how it goes
We just waste away our patience steady looking at our phones
Quarters on the eighths is in my pocket, tryna smoke?
Yo my crowd is always full of friendly faces show me love
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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English

Hopping in the wagon the squad is rocking Adidas Sambas
Colin on the aux I can toler toxins while Molly Rocking
Don't extend an offer if pocket watching is in your options
Dollars for a profit I f*cking off them and spend it proper
I f*cking off them then I spend it proper
The man ain't never lending any paper to the bottom
Pit you up against each other rumors spreading turn to gossip
Something about it churns the feelings in my guts to tangled knots and
I guess I'm out of the loop
My whole life been a mixed can of alphabet soup
The B's turn to G's this ain't no regular flute
My boof turns suits into regular dudes
I go and walk in the bar like
The raw life I'm living it
Hard like a knock on your door
In the villages
Stalling the fight let the kid f*cking finish him
Garden of mine fed a whole pack of citizens
Yeah, and they gon tell me that they want that
Change out your lunchbag
Range of a scumbag
Chained to a lame babygirl you should dump that
Summertime loving get away and never run back
Get away and never run back home
In the blazing heat of summer days I been that cold
Hating me smoking dueces bitch you been asshole
9-5 then 5-9 I'm walking Earths plateau
You follow in shadows, you really copied
I manufactured beats and mastered crafts I really jockeyed
I tend to pass the gas and we ain't talking about the body
Drinking hot tea in your lobby while I'm practicing karate
And I'm stepping in my sambas
Smelling like a rasta
Making tortellini pasta
Fresher than a guava in the sun that's out in florida
I'm gon knock you off your rocker if I make a couple dollars
Watching boondocks in my blue crocs
New opps smoking moonrocks I sold them last weekend
And on my new shit yall stay been sleeping
Quarter pound I turned it to an ounce and start tweaking
My homie leaking all my music told him not to do it
These phonies talking on the phone but ain't got shit to prove it
Remember puffing skinny J's when I was making Stoopid
Now I face a wood of kush and lay around just looking clueless
These mother f*ckers douches
Truth is I'm an alien
You oozing goo from holes in body armor it's hilarious
Who the hell was saying shit about me I'm just curious
I walk around in sandals like a Greek that's on a chariot
CHUNKY got the shovel and the hole that's meant to bury us
Various I'm the sort of type to break the barrier
Ferry is making me sick I'm gonna throw up
CHUNK WORLDWIDE got the itch I'm gonna blow up

You cannot knock me off my wave in crunch time
Blowing haze for f*cking days as I intake some sunshine
Aye, here to stay I'll keep my patience in mind
Taste a little rage I might behave out the lines
See me element I don't want to hear it
Raking flakes then crush them up to raise a couple spirits
Bitch the mustard with the truffles got me flustered in the clearance
If the patties turning rotten Ima feed them to the deers
Papers start as notes then turn to cones that's how it goes
We just waste away our patience steady looking at our phones
Quarters on the eighths is in my pocket, tryna smoke?
Yo my crowd is always full of friendly faces show me love
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Brody Burton
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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