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Wiki – 3 Stories Lyrics


[Verse 1]

Walked up three stories just to see shorty

Each story I walked up had its own story

Oh lordy, real shit, no glory

Weirdos, loners, stoners, yellin families

Get to shorty door, step in its anatomy

And I study that shit from the hips to the tits

To little back dimples I peep while I hit

Even the feets is ripped, shit

If the feet look sweet, the feet needs licks

Once her lips hit dick, it leave me sick

I hold it, unfold it, bone it, skeet quick

That’s as much about the body that I need to know

Turn to shorty “Mami, I need to go”

“Papi you said you’d spend the evening though”

Is what she said to me, eventually I calm her down

Went down the stairs, open up the door, hit with a wall of sound

In the city all alone, thousand people all around

In the city all alone, thousand people all around

[Verse 2]

Take a turn, at this point my main concern

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Where the buds everyday I burn so I can grub

I need at least a dub, but I only got ten so the weed’s a dub

I been walking for a minute now I’m weak as fuck

I need to take a seat but only got this motherfucking street, I’m stuck

But then it hit me, I know who got tree for us

And yeah boy, I’m talking that real sour

Tired, thought of the fire gave me will power

Get off my ass and walk right down to silver towers

Man now it’s just me and the kids

Big boy spliff, pork buns coming out the fridge

And homies mines bottles getting swigged

So then I sip, sip, then I sip some more

To the moment I was drenched and I had to go

Playing corners left me on the floor

Get up, dust myself up to the corner store

I needed eats, now I’m sauced in the streets, had to stop

Lost in the sauce, walking east but hardly I could walk

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I finally found a cab that let me rock, I hopped in

Told him where to let me off

I told him where to let me off

[Verse 3]

Sticking my head up out that taxi cabby

He let me light in the back seat actually

Open the window all he ask me naturally

I looked through the glass, see some shabby

Of the cabi tryna pass me, pass me

Another day for your ass, we max speed

Hair blowin’ in the wind, that’s a win

No matter what type of whip we be in

Even if it ain’t a Benz

We been around the east river with the spins

Just tryna get back up to our ends

Fact that I’m drunk what, tuck me into bed

You don’t get me God, then you don’t get the squad

Feel like it’s out Akira crusing up the FDR


You know the thing with Patrick is that the guy eats, sleeps, and shits fuckin’ lyrics. You know what I’m sayin’, that’s all the fuckin’ guys knows how to do. If he doesn’t have rapping he’s dead, you know what I’m saying, he can’t do nothing else. He can’t wipe his fuckin’ ass in so many fuckin’ ways. He can’t clean up his room. He can’t do his laundry. All that motherfucker can do is throw rhymes, see words in his fuckin’ sleep, and just like put things together and telling stories of his generation. And I feel like since I met him, the kid, all he ever did was just fuckin’ rap

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