Check It Out / Prodigy lyrics

Part 1: check it out

(wait 10 seconds into the beat)

(pre chorus:)
I’m boutta pull up with the dro
A n*gga in a pinch
Got some b*tches on the phone
A n*gga never trip
When we walking to the club
A young n*gga n*gga never sip
She asked me what my name is
I said baby girl don’t trip

(chorus:)
Yeah all my n*ggas black
All my n*ggas wack
All my n*ggas crack
Yeah we don’t do no crack
Hit em in they back
We don’t do no crack
Hit em in they back
We don’t do no crack
Hit em in they back
We don’t do no crack
Hit em in they back
Yuh
(verse 1:)
Ok these b*tches looking at me
They wanna see my di*k (what)
I don’t imma give it to her if she do the split
And all my n*ggas running out of time to do their sh*t
Before i take another one i have to never trip
Goddamn
Im the man
40 b*tches staring at me like i’m 10
I ain’t never felt so much it ain’t a sin
My n*ggas litty
40 trippy
Steady sippin

(bridge:)
Check it out
Check it out
Check it out
Check it out
Check it out

(verse 2:)
All my n*ggas dancing with me like it’s hop scotch
Put another n*gga on the phone with grandma
You might have to see if you can test your luck now
I bet another n*gga finna get a coma
(pre chorus:)
I’m boutta pull up with the dro
A n*gga in a pinch
Got some b*tches on the phone
A n*gga never trip
When we walking to the club
A young n*gga n*gga never sip

(bridge:)
Check it out
Check it out
Check it out
Check it out yuh
Check it out
Check it out

(chorus:)
All my n*ggas black
All my n*ggas wack
All my n*ggas crack
Yeah we don’t do no crack
Hit em in they back
We don’t do no crack
Hit em in they back
We don’t do no crack
Hit em in they back
We don’t do no crack
Hit em in they back
We don’t do no crack

(beat ends at 2:45)

[instrumental bridge]

Part 2: Prodigy

(verse:)
Got your navi on the phone, he asking for some work
Got some b*tches in my home, they cookin' on the pot
Know some n*ggas in the A, still trappin' at the spot
And we robbing all you n*ggas, we taking off your top
I'mma 4 up with the slime, we pull up with them mops
And when I'm talking, 'bout the mob, that's Harlem to the Bronx
I use to run run with that Glock
But now I'm way too hot
Got some n*ggas who time for Carti, 'cause they got they guap
Got some paparazzi looking at me, waiting on the flock
f*ck these little n*ggas hating snitching like some cop