Lyrics

One, two, three, four, five, six seven If life is a I hope my dogs go to heaven Eight nines Mac ten and a Mac eleven This twelve gauge don't pump fake It's all action I'm out this world like Apollo thirteen You already know what's coming next un uh Fourteen Quinceañera Ain't nobody better baby I can do it better I got more sixteens than Jared Fogel seller Wait let me calm it down a bit though Three ten four I spit fire like a zippo Smoking like a train At eighteen was MO And at nineteen I let the devil sleep on top of my pillow But hindsight twenty/twenty my flow gets sick as Covid I'm locked and fully loaded They say I'm GOAT'ed Duly noted Do he know I got twenty-one twenty-two's Who got motion They rocking boats like Aaliyah I'm like Big L and Beethoven The lyrics I be composing make you lose your composure In the game till it's over like twenty-three on the poster I got more drive than the chauffeur I'll coach you with the heat like Erik Spoelstra I just want the ring like a soda with no coaster I be in the gym like twenty-four I call an iso and I post-up and expose ya Like low exposure How I got more bars than granola Give you niggas the boot like NOLA Twenty-five lighters on my dresser Yes sir I gots to get pay yay aid I got twenty-five lighters on my dresser Yes sir I gots to get pay yay aid Uh like twenty-six I rule with an Iron Fist Like Daniel Rand from Earth six one six My flow get nasty Like Robert taking a piss on that chick in a flick Focus like Will Smith don't get slapped like Chris Boy I am really a legend Kick it like Eddy from Tekken and set that at twenty-seven but still got to use it to teach a lesson You adolescents don't understand my flow is infected twenty-eight days later Do you not get the message The fact they try to compare us I kinda feel disrespected We barely make it past twenty-one twenty-nine is a blessing for thirty pieces of silver They'll betrayed They own brethren It's been like two thousand years and we ain't seen no progression Only seen the regression Only seen the recession at thirty-one Most of us probably reached the height of depression Was it all from the stressing Was it too much suppression Was it lack of confession or just the lack of perspective Twenty-five lighters on my dresser Yes sir I gots to get pay yay aid I got twenty-five lighters on my dresser Yes sir I gots to get pay yay aid
Writer(s): Kyle West Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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