Lyrics

Chopper on me and you know that bitch folded Pistol on me and you know that bitch loaded Living my life just like everything golden When I say that, I'm talking 'bout the Rollie Nigga talk shit, put a hole in him slowly Then I bag his bitch, fuck on that bitch slowly Said you getting money, then you gotta show me Know I'm a VLONE thug, bitch, I'm so lonely Check it out, diamonds shine in the dark Water ring look like VOSS Fuck her once, break her heart Skate on that girl like my name Tony Hawk Had the swag from the start, had the shit in my car Duck, I aim with the Moss- Berg, so cold that my watch made me cough I ain't never took a loss, keep it a hundred, of course I pulled out that Lamb, no Honda Accord I'll fuck your bitch and then I'll hit record I took the Xan and then I'll hit the snore Walk on the dead, bitch, I trip on the corpse Counting the bands, but y'all mentioning Forbes It felt like just yesterday, I was poor Wake up, I'm swagging in Christian Dior I'm dressing like I was Zoboomafoo Got lions and snakes on my Gucci shoes Poured up a deuce, I rolled up a blunt or two Your bitch wanna fuck when she come through Sensei busting up bricks, I do kung-fu Good aim when shooting, I'm hunting you Caught a cold from my ice, ah-choo All black Ghost pull up, peek-a-boo I'm smoking that platinum cookies, that's the best I got the juice, I pour up that Hitech Four pockets full, looking like thigh pads Talking that gangsta shit, no, you ain't 'bout that Hoodrich I keep the strap in my Louie bag Fuck on your bitch, give her back, I'm through with that Filthy rich like the sewer, don't hang with no rats Designer my fashion, I'm still sipping Act I got them cookies, they fresh out the oven Juuging and packing, I'm making shit double Four in the 20, I like my shit muddy Fuck on that ho, then I call up her buddy Rich nigga status, I keep the strap on me My red bottoms made from the hair of a pony My young niggas murking, they scared to be opponents Talking that fuck shit, we pulling right up on it That pint don't come sealed, nigga, I don't want it I trap out the bando, nigga, like it's haunted HoodWolf, leave me with the dragon in the dungeon I still serve a nigga a bale of the onions Better go ask your bitch, I've been getting money Real Candler Road nigga, used to serve Sonya I gotta meet the plug way out in Conyers I got the paper like folder dividers Buy the work, no cosigners Real street nigga, I ain't taking no dummies Can't get it the way we trying, nigga, you'll die I can seen a nigga acting like me, stop lying I'm Pablo the Plug, you ain't sold a dime I'm in the concrete jungle with the lions I need the pints, nigga, I don't buy lines When I get bricks, yeah, I'm paying for mine 360 ring, why the fuck would I sign? I'm dressing like I was Zoboomafoo Got lions and snakes on my Gucci shoes Poured up a deuce, I rolled up a blunt or two Your bitch wanna fuck when she come through Sensei busting up bricks, I do kung-fu Good aim when shooting, I'm hunting you Caught a cold from my ice, ah-choo All black Ghost pull up, peek-a-boo I'm smoking that platinum cookies, that's the best I got the juice, I pour up that Hitech Four pockets full, looking like thigh pads Talking that gangsta shit, no, you ain't 'bout that Hoodrich I keep the strap in my Louie bag Fuck on your bitch, give her back, I'm through with that Filthy rich like the sewer, don't hang with no rats Designer my fashion, I'm still sipping Act
Writer(s): Composer Author Unknown, Symere Woods Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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