Nick Grant – ’96 Bulls Lyrics



’96 Bulls Lyrics by Nick Grant

You never met a n—a this cold
Somebody tell them boys class never gets old
The more success they hate me, that’s the way this s–t goes
Married to the money that relationship goals
Never will I fold, pay me what you owe
It ain’t a cougar trine holla when I wave the 44
Money don’t change n—-s it only amplifies, who they really are
The sold you a bag of lies, this the land of the wise
All the lamb are disguise, I’ll never lose my cool but not a fan of your vibes

Okay I’m from the dirty, need to be sanitized
Product of ghetto teaching this ain’t that class at DeVry
Moving that cocaina they call it that Spanish bride
I love her I fantasize I’m just staying alive
Food for the soul, stuck with a can of pride
You n—-s can’t see me, f–k it I’m camera shy
You better eat your Wheaties, I park it where I can see
S–t will get hot and shaky like Parkinson’s with the fever
This ain’t checkers its chess, all I see is the cleavage
Butting heads with the best, it ain’t nothing to Beavis

I’m the meanest boy, I got it zipped up thriller jacket I mean it
Bad b—h from Ibiza, she brought a friend like a feature
She got that good grade A head I had to repeat it
Six ring flow, leave it after the beep then
I’m from the bottom where half these cats are deceitful
Where n—-s drive by and double back like the sequel
Lethal, I’m the goat, rappers should take some notes
All you n—-s is p—y, don’t drop the soap
Puffy dancing on the money hoe
Peep how my hunger grows, life is a fat b—h, I love her money rolls
They wake up on my d–k, go eat your Honey combs

Go where they money go, location undisclosed
Tell her the check don’t bounce, tell her my tongue can roll
I pull up in a drop then peel off like under clothes
Picture life being perfect, man I struck a pose
Man I’m too down to earth for these stuck up hoes
In the A, I diddy bop, she got her t—–s propped up
A-s fat and she let me lick the clitty pop
With a dark brown sis like she dipped in W—y Wonk
N—-s lost the noodle thinking I ain’t really dripping sauce
Poppin, check the skillet, nothing I’m just chilling
P—y n—-s got that virus, hope my sisters catch no feelings

Keep them n—-s out your business, help your n—-s run a business
These n—-s swear they gods but know nothing ’bout forgiveness
The world showed you moguls are just crooked politicians
Spending hundreds since they had they baby face like Kenneth
I’d rather be a goofy then a Mickey stop the snitching
Internet thuggin, hashtag killers
A star in your eyes baby ask Jack Thriller
Selling boy and that girl Ariana, Mac Miller
Trap rap with a, backpack twist of, young black n—-s, tryna crack the system

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