MarcusBLACK Featuring Troy Ave & The Game – Wrist Motion Lyrics

(Verse 1 – The Game)
I’m in the kitchen with soda
Bout to bag me some grams
Just to getting these cutlets
Having dreams of a Lamb
Bout to wrap my bandana
Fore I pull up at Tams
Singing Tony Montana
I’m talking yickins and yams
I got them bricks off in that eh eh
Them bricks off in that Benz
The feds off in that thrift shop
Tryna keep tabs on my ends
And I docked that from my essay
East LA for that low
No surfboards, just turf wars
With skis off in that snow
I knew this bi**h named Tanisha
Kept the kush in the jar
Used to smoke up her own sh*t
Pissed them drug dealers off
And then her sister Felicia
Asked to borrow my car
Now I can’t give you my whip
But you can whip up this rock

(Chorus – The Game)
Let me see that wrist motion
Wrist motion, wrist motion
Wrist motion, wrist motion
Wrist motion, wrist
Let me see that wrist motion
Wrist motion, wrist motion
Wrist motion, wrist motion
Wrist motion, sto

(Verse 2 – Troy Ave)
Dope boy, trill, yeah
Coming through in the Benz
And I brought 3 birds
Inside this bi**h and her friends
We don’t talk 3 words
Where the money and then
Flew on, too gone
I cut those like a coupon
Don’t bounce back
I’m a hustler from Brooklyn
The other one in the back
You know that’s coming for cooking
Silver ounce and roll
I need a grand introduction
Microwave 232
250 homie, what’s ratchet?
Bout to wrap up the yay
Stirring the bird
Wrist like Dr Jay
Stirring the bird
All of us like the both
All of us standing tall
Dipping since
I ain’t playing with ni**as at all

(Repeat Chorus)

(Verse 3 – MarcusBLACK)
Let me see that wrist motion, wrist motion
Pyrexs, dishes soaking
Blood dripping, Crips loc’ing
Heard you got it locked, I’m tryna get it open
I ain’t got the work, I gotta go to work
But my uncle showed me how that soda work
That brick form get them bricks going
I show you how that Motorolla working
That 2 way and that sky tell
Running errands in the hall and the guys tell
Might kill a ni**a off, might as well
Cause he got his hands all in my cell
Like hi, my name is
Not Slim Shady, but my game is
American Sniper, but my range is
Putting hallow tips in your anus
And I’m faded full like alpo
Endo blowing out though
I told my mama, I know Kanye
She said what the f**k you on my couch for?
God damn, I thought I lived here
Remember me? I was a kid here
My pops left, I got a new pops
Who the f**k am I, ni**a? 2Pac?
Macaveli in the pen and pelly pell in the celly
And telly, I’m watching belly righy now
Baby mama say she want a mani-pedi
And a wappy fetty, s**t I need a trap queen right now
Pipe down, why I tell her I a crack fiend
All these ni**as selling, so you know what that means
Back yard barbecue, these ni**as with the magazine
Mr black in my motherf**king bad dream
Ain’t a rap ni**a that can stop us
We gon’ pop up like a pop up book for toddlers
Got these mobsters and them monsters
Making mockery of your partner
Selling Oxys to your doctor
And that Apollo that I got from your Dr Dre
And an AK
I been working on this 9 to 5 all day
While my nig
While my n **as getting money all up in the hallway