Whiskey Eyes


Lyrics to 'Whiskey Eyes' by French Montana:

–Intro–
We cannot deal anybody else
(Rock party)
We cannot deal with what anybody else is sayin’
I’m a mothafuckin’ coke boy
1, 2, 3
I’m a mothafuckin’ coke boy

–Chorus–
You lured me in with those whiskey eyes
You’ll tell me things, I know they’re all lies
I’ll find, I’ll fall for you
And there’s nothin’ I can do

–Verse 1: French Montana–
Yeah, Montana, ayy
Hit the game, put the wave in it
Goin’, goin’ to your veins, put the needle in it
I snatch you by your head like an eagle did it
Shootout with the police like Seagul did it
Middle of the streets like The Beetles did it
Can’t be in it when you leave, or they leave you in it
E-Everything that’s gold, ain’t what it glitter
I’ve seen killers fold, foes turn to killers
Have your money right, wanna lock off
I seen my favorite rappers turn to [?]
The best thing I did was let that pain from my feelings
Turn the pain into music
Turn the music into millions, haaan
Got jerked my first deal, now I told ’em “suck a dick”
Once I made my first mil’, told ’em fuck a brick
Brick brick by brick, ’til it’s empire
Lick by lick, goin’ to sleep wired
Had to learn tax, help you relax
If you don’t own your math, your classes turn to ashes
We hit the round table, count it all up
Or get the brown bag, count it all up
Call the bad bitches, round ’em all up
Count the first man, count it all up
Millionaire livin’, hit the mall up
International superstar

–Chorus–
You lured me in with those whiskey eyes
You’ll tell me things, I know they’re all lies
I’ll find, I’ll fall for you
And there’s nothin’ I can do

–Verse 2: French Montana–
They said kill ’em with success, I’ll toe tag ya
Name a Hollywood bitch, I ain’t rag yet
P-p-props, the pressure turn to diamonds
The karma turn to commas
If the block told ya on and off
See your dreams in the bottle
We on the [?]
Trips out to Cabo
Deep sea with a model
That’s Tammy from Miami
Put her face on the white like Sosa
Come and get a close up
I’m on the post like the power forward
From the hoodies to the Tom Ford
Big up, for the stick up
They wanted me to hiccup
I copped the Bent’ over sticker
I’m ’bout to come and pick your chick up
Gladiator, bein’ [?] casino suits
Godfather trilogy, Al Pacino shoot
This that Benny Blanco ‘fore he killed Carlito
This that Larry Davis, before he caught that Rico
Them palm streets, Teflon fleek
In the jungle, while you holdin’ hands in Palm Beach
We was climbin’ fences, we was playin’ benches
One time for my bitches, lurking from the trenches
European boots, European suits
African diamonds, my niggas shine
My nigga Chinx’s son became my own son
The block where I’m from, you need your own gun

–Verse 3: Chinx–
Devil held me up, figured that I’d convert to God
Took my ground from the pavement and aimed it at the stars
Swag drippin’ by the liter, four ounce of purp’
The game ain’t for the weak, gon’ play the church
Off the Mary Jane, pill, syrup, thick smoke, coughing
Ridin’ on these suckas that opposed it
Ballin’, took the whistle from the ref and made my own call
From the Pens, got my homie on a phone call
No work, money goes under the mattress only
Hands clean, got some youngins that’ll bag it for me
Really skatin’, but your conflict diamonds on me
Made my vow to the game, boy, that’s matrimony

–Chorus–
You lured me in with those whiskey eyes
You’ll tell me things, I know they’re all lies
I’ll find, I’ll fall for you
And there’s nothin’ I can do

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