Check out the F.I.C.O. Sing lyrics by Clipse below, and experience the song’s passion. The American hip hop duo is all set to release its fourth studio album, Let God Sort Em Out, on July 11, 2025. The song F.I.C.O. by Clipse (featuring Stove God Cooks) talks about the high-stakes, gritty, and unfiltered lifestyle of the drug game, where loyalty is rare, trust can be fatal, and survival depends on both street smarts and cold decision-making. With razor-sharp verses from Pusha T and Malice, this track paints a dark, cinematic picture of the world they come from, where the line between power and paranoia is razor-thin. The title F.I.C.O. referring to a credit score, is cleverly used as a metaphor for street credibility and the cost of doing business in an unforgiving world.
Whether you’re here for the vibe or curious about what Clipse is bringing to the table, this track won’t disappoint. Its irresistible music and unforgettable, mind-blowing lyrics make it impossible not to sing along.
Lyrics of F.I.C.O. by Clipse
[Intro]
Whoo!
[Verse 1: Pusha T]
I Remember Late Nights, Busy Hallways Driving Me Psycho
The Money Wouldn’t Come Fast Enough
We Was Back In Forth Down, Streamline, Movin’ Weight Was Like Lipo
The Rest Of Y’all Stuck In A Rut
Niggas Double Cross And Talk Behind Your Back, See, That’s Where The Knife Go
I Guess They Wasn’t Fuckin’ With Us
Some Niggas Get The Luck Of The Draw, For Others Life Is A Dice Roll
And Waitin’ On Faith Ain’t For Us
When You Young, That You Realize You Can’t Trust The Mouth With A [?]
They Try, But Couldn’t Love You Enough
Dance Music On My Neck, Where’s Your Water Bottle?
Diamonds The Light Show, Lookin’ Like The Sun In The Club
If You Re-in’ Up With Us, Then Your Credit Score Gotta Be F.I.C.O
I’m Talkin’ 850 Or Bust
See, You Really Willpower When You Made Niggas Balance On Tightrope
They Know They Not Much For The Blood
Had My Man Shoot Your Block, I’ma Send His Ass Far As The Flight Go
Ain’t Worry ’bout Duckin’ A Judge
Keep Frontin’ For Your Bitches, ’cause Any Minute Repo Might Show
You Know That Shit Up In The Mud
Heard Your Man Was In There Singin’ For His Life
They Was Callin’ Him Maestro, ’cause Time That Heavy Can Crush
When You Pay A Nigga Back Like It’s Layaway, Whisperin’ “Die Slow”
The Last Words You Hear In The Trunk
[Chorus: Stove God Cooks]
You Don’t Know I Know
You Ain’t Seen What I Saw, No
You Ain’t Been Where I Go
Where The Fetty So Strong You Gotta Bag It With One Eye Closed
My Shooter Turn You Inside Out
I Heard The Feds Turned The Crib Inside Out
Dropped The Roof On You Niggas, Let The Inside Out
Fresh Prince Jacket, Boy I Cook ’em ’til They Inside Out
[Verse 2: Malice]
Go-getter Glock, 0.27 Fit Snug In The Waistline
Both Sticks Came With The Drum
I Was 5’6″, Shoulder With A Chip, Wish A Nigga’d Take Mine
Index Yanked ’til It’s Numb
Used To Call Me Windex ’cause This Thing I Spray Gon’ Make You Change Minds
I Done Seen Hercules Run
We Was Powerlifting 2.2S, Nah We Ain’t Throw Gang Signs
My Brick Walk Was Second To None
I Would Have Them Take A Number Like Dmv, That Was The Baseline
Check Out Or Register One
Miami Niggas Liked Big Perm ’cause They Numbers Was Faizon
Cubans Showed Me Nothing But Love
When It Come Down To It, Every String-a-bell Just Needs An Avon
Who Won’t Sweep It Under The Rug
Wanna Roll With A Loave, Nigga Break Mine, I Knew Where To Place Mine
I Don’t Keep The Gun In The Glove
Hit The Turnpike With The Running Lights That Be On In The Daytime
’cause Canines Sniff Out The Crumb
Hands 3 And 9 On The Wheel As I’m Crossing The State Line
Dumb-ditty-dumb-ditty-dumb
Survival Of The Fittest, You Either Get Acquitted Or Face Time
I Done Had An Infamous Run
My Story Gon’ Hit The First 48 Then It’s On Dateline
’cause This Really Shit I Done Done
[Chorus: Stove God Cooks]
You Don’t Know I Know
You Ain’t Seen What I Saw, No
You Ain’t Been Where I Go
Where The Fetty So Strong You Gotta Bag It With One Eye Closed
My Shooter Turn You Inside Out
I Heard The Feds Turned The Crib Inside Out
Dropped The Roof On You Niggas, Let The Inside Out
Fresh Prince Jacket, Boy I Cook ’em ’til They Inside Out
