Paranoid Songtext
von Three Loco

I pull up paranoid on the bard
I′m pullin up so hard, and I'm sippin on that bard
It′s that drank
And my pocket's got a fat back.
And my pocket's got a fat, and my pocket′s got a fat band

When I step right, stay out my sight.
Leanin′ at the light, with the burner, clutch tight.
A tight ass fade cover up Versace braids
Neon lights, fifty grand on the razor blade
Cut so precise, plus it cuts on the white
Never had a wife, but if I did, perfect height (5'3")
Perfect time piece, maybe Rolex on the wrist
Baby blue barrettes, part a spoiler with the kit
Call her like a kitten, bitch I′m callin like a snail
Engine V-12, gas supreme, I'm at the shell
Shell-toed Adidas, maybe grand here like Fila′s
Haters can't see us, lay ′em flat like tortillas


I pull up paranoid on the bard
I'm pullin up so hard, and I'm sippin on that bard
It′s that drank
And my pocket′s got a fat back
And my pocket's got a fat, and my pocket′s got a fat band

I pull up paranoid on the bard
I'm pullin up so hard, and I′m sippin on that bard
It's that drank
And my pocket′s got a fat back
And my pocket's got a fat, and my pocket's got a fat band


Pocket full of bank, Valerian cash in the tank
Smugglin′ snuggies ′cross the states
Illegal, El Salvadorian
Yeah
You'll believe it when you see me open the doors on the Porsche Dalorian (Wassup?)
Born again
Bermuda, Bahamas
In flower pajamas
Ill slap bitch your armpits
You knew I was in Menudo
In the ′82 Pujo, I'm bonin′ your culo
Slap my balls on your dad's desk
And be like, "Whatcha gon′ do about this? Nothing."
You a bitch, they attach to my fists
When I slap your mom in the dick and shit (what?!)

I pull up paranoid on the bard
I'm pullin up so hard, and I'm sippin on that bard
It′s that drank
And my pocket′s got a fat back
And my pocket's got a fat, and my pocket′s got a fat band

I pull up paranoid on the bard
I'm pullin up so hard, and I′m sippin on that bard
It's that drank
And my pocket′s got a fat back
And my pocket's got a fat, and my pocket's got a fat band

From the head, to the toes, to the soul that they don′t got
All they care about is the next Patron shot
These fake rappers want what Al Capone got
′Til they on the street leakin', with they back to the dome shop
Teflon don, shit, you Zac Efron, stepped on, by this fat kid that gets slept on
Suck yo mama dry, suck yo mama dry
You′re jealous 'cause I exhale at everything I try
I′m outlandish
I'll even speak Spanish, like, "Mí Casa, Su Casa, viva la rasa, I′m a reggae-ton Rasta, La Bamba, La Bamba, mi bilar samba, bye bye Simba."
3-D Ninja, me eat ginger, and wasabi, oh my casé, Kimosabi

I pull up paranoid on the bard
I'm pullin up so hard, and I'm sippin on that bard
It′s that drank
And my pocket′s got a fat back
And my pocket's got a fat, and my pocket′s got a fat band

I pull up paranoid on the bard
I'm pullin up so hard, and I′m sippin on that bard
It's that drank
And my pocket′s got a fat back
And my pocket's got a fat, and my pocket's got a fat band