Lyrics

Mike WiLL Made-It Ear Drummers Automatic weapons and Giuseppe's Automatic weapons and Giuseppe's Automatic weapons and Giuseppe's (y'all ain't ready) Automatic weapons and Giuseppe's (y'all ain't ready) Five pack, ten pack, twenty pack (twenty packs) Thirty pack, forty pack, fifty pack (fifty packs) Know to make a mill straight off from scratch I can pull your girl with my hand tied behind my back Flipping packs, I'm a silver-back, ain't no monkey shit Go just rolled up a joint, that last 40 minutes Andale, ain't no bullshit, this that real life When Puerto Rican Johnny left, it didn't feel right I come from straight from the trenches You know my Spurt off the hinges When you come through we don't talk to you Everyone know that you snitchin' This is a different dimension Whatever I want get attention My partner stay with the pistols Them pistols stay with extensions I done got my hustle in the trap (in the trap) Another star bustin' in the trap (in the trap) I got head in the trap (in the trap) I done got my bread in the trap (in the trap) Automatic weapons and Giuseppe's (y'all ain't ready) Automatic weapons and Giuseppe's Automatic weapons and Giuseppe's (y'all ain't ready) Automatic weapons and Giuseppe's (y'all ain't ready) Five pack, ten pack, twenty pack (twenty packs) Thirty pack, forty pack, fifty pack (fifty packs) I can make a mill up, straight from scratch I can take your girl with my hand tied behind my back Rap shit, trap shit, recorded this, sorta did it All my 16's crackin', you gon' need soda with it Big boulder on my pinky, get oral sex off a winky Took so much designer shit on a cruise, the boat started sinkin' Well, hit her with the D, now she hooked like Phonics Chopper by the high heels in the damn closet Baby mama got a damn whole bunch of bags She know her baby daddy got a whole bunch of mags (y'all ain't ready) Valentino, Saint Laurent, Dolce, Gabbana Giuseppe shoes, Jimmy Choos, and damn red bottoms Got a .38 in my damn Nike box What the if and end, I'ma damn wifey's socks Ain't no competition, I'll be damned I'ma stop (y'all ain't ready) Do I talk to lames, I say damn, I do not Automatic weapons get to sprayin' out the car Brand new fuckin' necklace like I'm payin' for a car (uh) Automatic weapons and Giuseppe's Automatic weapons and Giuseppe's Automatic weapons and Giuseppe's (y'all ain't ready) Automatic weapons and Giuseppe's (y'all ain't ready, y'all ain't ready) Talking 'bout competition, ain't no competition (y'all ain't ready) Talking 'bout competition, ain't no competition (y'all ain't ready, y'all ain't ready) I'm in the magazine you can get your issue Pull up on your scene with a thousand pistols (Fuck is my ransom, homie?)
Writer(s): Michael Len Williams, Tauheed Epps, Marquel Middlebrooks, Stephen Robert Hybicki Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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