Στίχοι

Run that back, Khi Hold on, it's October 10th, my niggas get out the bar, nigga Ain't no more free dub, ain't no more free lil' head, nigga Ayy, ayy, gang, ayy, ayy, ayy, baow, baow, baow, baow Hold on, gang, gang, hold on, hold on, hold on, ayy Okay, cool, we finna get him, gang He flexin' too hard, we gon' flip him Dean throwin' C's and thinkin' he crippin' Pull out the Glock with it down like a nipple Try to come 'round, then get shot, it's that simple Whole lotta facts in my songs when you hear 'em They don't want no smoke, they just want me to fear 'em Slide the door back on that minivan Push a button and we spinnin' like a ceiling fan You ain't tryna get active, quit bitchin' then Michael Jackson this ratchet, just send me there We hit this strap with a tool or piece Like, "Fah, fah, fah, fah," that gang shit I bring the bag in like I'm Saint Nick We gon' get on his ass, make him change cliques He don't think with his head, get his brain split On the road, no caboose on some train shit Lotta ice on my wrist like I sprained it Treat the beef like a car, we just crank shit I like Internet beefin' and lame shit That's the quickest way we do the foolery She gon' fuck 'cause I'm fly with my jewelry Beat his ass, now them hoes talkin' suin' me (gang) Hold on, hold on, hold on, gang Okay, cool, we finna get him, gang He flexin' too hard, we gon' flip him Dean throwin' C's, they thinkin' he crippled Pull out the Glock with it down like a nipple Try to come 'round, then get shot, it's that simple Whole lotta facts in my songs when you hear 'em They don't want no smoke, they just want me to fear 'em Gang, hold on, baow, baow, okay, cool He want some smoke, jump in his pool, I bet he won't float She givin' noggin, she finna choke Diamonds, they water, they came with some salt Geek in my city, got pulled like a rope Play with that gang, you gon' get what you want She popped the Perc' and ate dick on the floor I hit the road with them steppers with me With a whole lot of hoes and Berettas with me Got a Glock .45, the big fellow with me Own these heels like I got Cinderella with me We done went to his show, it was hella empty They don't play 'cause they know we get hella busy If you shoot, I'ma hit, boy, you better hear me I got aim, I won't miss with this yellow Glizzy Hold on, gang, hold on, hold on, hold on Okay, cool, we finna get him, gang He flexin' too hard, we gon' flip him We speak throwin' C's, they thinkin' he crippled Pull out the Glock with it down like a nipple Try to come 'round, then get shot, it's that simple Whole lotta facts in my songs when you hear 'em They don't want no smoke, they just want me to fear 'em Gang, gang, hold on Okay, cool, we finna get him Uh, play 'round with us and we zip him Uh, they know I'm official Uh, aim at the slime on the pimple Uh, she give me face, dimple Uh, I hop by the time mine gon' end but- Play with that gang and get popped like a pimple, hold up, gang
Writer(s): Brandon Edward Pugh Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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