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Creep Lyrics

from Blood Money

"Creep" is track #4 on the album Blood Money. It was written by Mitchell, Carl Terrell / Taylor, Frederick / Jackson, Curtis James.
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"Creep" is track #4 on the album Blood Money. It was written by Mitchell, Carl Terrell / Taylor, Frederick / Jackson, Curtis James.
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That's that creep, creep mode baby, we in creep mode
Don't come around here, baby, shining like that, yeah

It's crazy on this side, come through, gun through
Oh, ya man live out here, don't go and get comfortable
Don't know what he told you ain't sweet around here
And I don't care what he told you ain't sweet around here

See you riding that infinity, now that's not fair
What's that a 2006? Okay
Playboy we got balls that ain't made all day
You comin' through the hood straight dangling state, yeah

We takin' medium-rare, grilled debatin' us
Letting' that slide's not up for debate
Oh, you met, you a local guess what she bait
She don't know right now but trust me the bitch bait

I won't get all in the business that shorty is mad cool
My man was diggin' at but she a lil' bit nasty to
First time we catch you comin' out the building we snatch you
And takin' what's yours, first thing we ask you is

Fuck brought ya ass around here
Like you somebody lookin', like the player of the year, boy
Fuck brought ya ass around here
This is Queens lil' homie get caught around here, yeah

Fuck brought ya ass around here
Comin' through for these bitches, shit happen around here, yeah
Fuck brought ya ass around here
Like niggas got something' to live for around here

You ask me all these rappers is bums
Have showed me the flow and I ran with it dun
I mean really, y'all got to be the most worst
Rap shit I ever heard compared to P verse

We emerge on the scene
Everything seems, stop, watch is very bling, bling
Nigga wanna swing swing, very much so
But once we get in the air that's a wrap bro

Our songs good to go straight to the radio
Flex easy on the bomb let these niggas hear to flow
We Americas most dangerous to have fans
New York, New York, we the kings of the dam

We party too much and smoke too much grass
And we never see the bright side we only see the bad
Fuck all that, it's a lot of niggas dead
And I wont let em get me how they got them

Fuck brought ya ass around here
Like you somebody lookin', like the player of the year, boy
Fuck brought ya ass around here
This is Queens lil' homie get caught around here, yeah

Fuck brought ya ass around here
Comin' through for these bitches, shit happen around here, yeah
Fuck brought ya ass around here
Like niggas got something' to live for around here

Yeah, cock that, aim that, squeeze that, shoot the steel
Cadillac Coupe De Ville, wood grain on the wheel
Cocaine in the pot, baking soda water hot
When the ice cubes drop, look at that, that's crack

Bag that nigga stack, black hoody fitted hat
Grimy nigga with a gat screamin', "Where the money at?"
My hood Southside, riders ride that's right
Yayo he know, Banks know, Buck know

Shit it ain't about the dough I ain't really with it yo
Camouflage on the low, ridin' round with the heat
I ain't say wassup to you, nigga you don't know me
I'm on the grind all the time, heavy shine and a nine

Clip fill till the tip, stunt I get on some shit
Different day, different bitch, old hoody new kicks
Oldsmobile fuck that, no rims, hubcaps
Keep my eyes open for them niggas that dun buck that

Fuck brought ya ass around here
Like you somebody lookin', like the player of the year, boy
Fuck brought ya ass around here
This is Queens lil' homie get caught around here, yeah

Fuck brought ya ass around here
Comin' through for these bitches, shit happen around here, yeah
Fuck brought ya ass around here
Like niggas got something' to live for around here

Songwriters
MITCHELL, CARL TERRELL / TAYLOR, FREDERICK / JACKSON, CURTIS JAMES

Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network

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