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Catch the Fade - O.D.P.T. (Chopped and Screwed) Lyrics



Catch the Fade - O.D.P.T. (Chopped and Screwed) Lyrics




I'm from where heavens gates is just steps away breakfast wake
Silver metal will put you in second place
Today is a little different, maybe the fantasies mine
It's Hot as a whore outside, that's slang of the time

Bootleg man selling new movies, give me two copies
March Funeral Home ain't take in no new bodies
My aunt's tickets hit, so steamed crabs and shit
A cookout, family and even the stickup kids

My pops at the grill, tapping folks, cracking jokes
Clear a circle for the kids, they having a talent show
My little cousins in the middle dancing to the radio
Old head with the matching short set, that's a crazy show

Police pulled up in a pair, hands on waists
Whole party got silent, which actions they gon take
One opened his mouth, and tipped his hat to say
"I love that song you played! Have a nice ass day"

Usually the streets seedy
But today, no shots no beef really
You could walk down the streets with niggaz freely
Shit feels like a one day peace treaty

Who text me? Oh, it's Ron
Prolly kick back, get it popping till the breakadawn
Look, the day was hella chill, no patrol of sirens
The loud niggas passed around prolly break a code of silence
I strolled through the clouds, enough to make a flying nimbus
Felt like I entered the Matrix, not lacking focus in us
Now the night falls, but i guess it stuck it's landing
I head away from the crib, looking outstanding
Royalty, not cold, but it looks like um haling
Ironically as the most wavey, so it's smooth sailing
Hit Ron up like "yo, I'm strolling on my way, cousin"
I hit the street like road reconstruction
Looking at mother nature's light, get to star gazing
With moonshine in my hand, def jams, all blazing
But when i finally hit his door, outside
I yelled "2K for 2K, yo, since you wanna doubt Live"

Usually the streets seedy
But today, no shots no beef really
You could walk down the streets with niggaz freely
Shit feel like a one day peace treaty
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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I'm from where heavens gates is just steps away breakfast wake
Silver metal will put you in second place
Today is a little different, maybe the fantasies mine
It's Hot as a whore outside, that's slang of the time

Bootleg man selling new movies, give me two copies
March Funeral Home ain't take in no new bodies
My aunt's tickets hit, so steamed crabs and shit
A cookout, family and even the stickup kids

My pops at the grill, tapping folks, cracking jokes
Clear a circle for the kids, they having a talent show
My little cousins in the middle dancing to the radio
Old head with the matching short set, that's a crazy show

Police pulled up in a pair, hands on waists
Whole party got silent, which actions they gon take
One opened his mouth, and tipped his hat to say
"I love that song you played! Have a nice ass day"

Usually the streets seedy
But today, no shots no beef really
You could walk down the streets with niggaz freely
Shit feels like a one day peace treaty

Who text me? Oh, it's Ron
Prolly kick back, get it popping till the breakadawn
Look, the day was hella chill, no patrol of sirens
The loud niggas passed around prolly break a code of silence
I strolled through the clouds, enough to make a flying nimbus
Felt like I entered the Matrix, not lacking focus in us
Now the night falls, but i guess it stuck it's landing
I head away from the crib, looking outstanding
Royalty, not cold, but it looks like um haling
Ironically as the most wavey, so it's smooth sailing
Hit Ron up like "yo, I'm strolling on my way, cousin"
I hit the street like road reconstruction
Looking at mother nature's light, get to star gazing
With moonshine in my hand, def jams, all blazing
But when i finally hit his door, outside
I yelled "2K for 2K, yo, since you wanna doubt Live"

Usually the streets seedy
But today, no shots no beef really
You could walk down the streets with niggaz freely
Shit feel like a one day peace treaty
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Ronald James, Taron Holder
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid




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