Let It Blow

Finna turn this motherfucker up, y'all know what the fuck goin' on

Laudiano

Look

I ain't cool with these ****, man, these **** hoes

They not really 'bout a bag, man, these **** broke

I'm fresh as fuck in this bitch, yeah, I'm ten-toes

I could've hit the bitch, but I passed her to my bro

Don't run up on me, on God, yeah, I keep a pole

And I'm always to the neck, stacking up my cho

And I don't need near bitch and I don't need near ho

John Gotti over him, I'ma let it blow

Free-free-free my brothers out that cage, they on that level four

Big blue Scotty Woods, yeah, I'm only smoking dope

I'm fresh as fuck, I got Balenciaga on my toe

I served a **** for his bitch, now I'm like, "Where my cho, man?"

I turned into a boss when I was seventeen

I was up in school, skipping class, I had to sell my weed

I ain't had no fuckin' handouts, fuck you **** mean?

If I went broke to eleven, yeah, I'd need my cheese

I hit the bitch for only one day and left her on scene

Fully on it, go and hit that block and clear the whole scene

MBK, when I make it out, I got the whole team

Bi-bitch ****, that's the hating shit that I don't need

And if they come, I won't snitch, that's just not my thing

I'm certified, my big homies is some OG's

RIP my uncle, Big Drugs and that's on the B

**** wanna take me, so I'm gripping on this .23

I ain't going out, they gon' eat the whole 17

I did it to the neck, I'ma make it, that's a guarantee

All these bitches love me, they tell friends they wanna marry me

Product of my hood, show my **** how to go and eat

I'ma tell a **** how my big homies told me

If you got your fuckin' hand out, that's the wrong thing

Can't funk over no bitch, she a slut, she fuck the whole team

I been goin' money, ask about me, bet they know me

I ain't cool with these ****, man, these **** hoes

They not really 'bout a bag, man, these **** broke

I'm fresh as fuck in this bitch, yeah, I'm ten-toes

I could've hit the bitch, but I passed her to my bro

Don't run up on me, on God, yeah, I keep a pole

And I'm always to the neck, stacking up my cho

And I don't need near bitch and I don't need near ho

John Gotti over him, I'ma let it blow

I-I ain't cool with these ****, man, these **** hoes

They not really 'bout a bag, man, these **** broke

I'm fresh as fuck in this bitch, yeah, I'm ten-toes

I could've hit the bitch, but I passed her to my bro

Don't run up on me, on God, yeah, I keep a pole

And I'm always to the neck, stacking up my cho

And I don't need near bitch and I don't need near ho

John Gotti over him, I'ma let it blow

Laudiano