Letras

(Check the score) This shit sound like a movie, let's do it like that then We make a movie, Ray (okay) (Pablo) I'm officially in traffic, tryna get it in I'm officially the backbone of what it is You can push it off my flip, no matter what it is I feel wrong to eat alone, I'm tryna cut 'em in Told her, "I'ma cut yo' ass off if you say 'what' again" All that slick talk I do came from dealin' with the scales You can tell by the smell, Yung put it on the scale If you can keep at least a dime around, you'll never fail That feelin' that yo' hand get from shootin' when you scared If a drug bust in Flint make the news, I was there Let me cut my arms off before I ball, I make it fair Rio did a million views seven times, it ain't rare Just bust a nut, that's why I hate Percs, I wanna fuck again Hit him in his shit, put him to sleep, somebody tuck him in The doors open up the other way, what kind of truck we in? You wanna join the Ghetto Boy clique? We gotta jump you in I whooped my bitch ass, then fucked her friend, I know that hurt her feelings We're blowin' real exotic weed, this ain't purple kenny I'll rather pay yo' student loans off, I ain't a Birkin-getter Ma, don't drink that pop in there, I got purple in it I know it look like Alka-Seltzer, it's a perky in it Cut the crock pot on medium and drop a turkey in it You see this stick I got right here? I hit a birdy wit' it I poured a deuce of red up and took the 30 wit' it I ain't have my daddy in my life neither, but I ain't care I'm in the crib, laid up, the lights off like I ain't there I be careful with the FN 'cause the trig' like a hair Rolled up 3.5 a piece, puttin' twins in the air Went to the Red Roof, got two beds, stuffed twins up in there Bro, don't kill him on my porch, got my kid up in there Cooked my first zip like, "Look at what I did up in there" I'll rent yo' kitchen out 'cause I live up in there I cheat a lot, but if she cheat, I'm cuttin' her off, I ain't fair I drunk a deuce straight in my nigga face, I ain't share I'm too high to get on top, bitch sit on me like I'm a chair If I get snatched, I'ma keep my mouth closed, I ain't Bear It must be a nigga job to hate on me, like they gotta do it We off the lane, my bitch made me breakfast, and we got into it If I got a gun on me, then I'm tryna shoot it 20 racks in dubs, I'ma hear a thud if I lose it I know, I know, I know, but I don't care I would've paid Ken to get my straps back, I ain't scared My bitch cheat, I'ma treat her like she dead, I ain't fair Give a fuck who I'm wit', I see some ass, I'ma stare If she get pregnant, hope she fall down a million somethin' stairs I know you sick, you think you rich, and don't nobody even care The type of nigga throw a party, only fam-fam there Hit her in a quiet house, it sound like, "Bam-bam" there Damn Lou, who you did that? Alright (bah, bah) Motherfucker goin' crazy, alright My bitch can't even like a nigga, mm My bitch can't even like a nigga picture, I'm insecure 85 a gram for this dog and it isn't pure Blue tips in the FN, they got a pedicure How the fuck I take a nigga style? He dropped a CD, I didn't hear it Okay, we on our fifth pop, this me and Ray My bitch ain't got no MAC on, but I beat her face Told Mike to let me see the Glock and I'ma keep the K I be preparin' for a shootout that's a week away I was tryna tell my bitch some shit, it took a week to say Like, yeah, I'm finna get married for real, it's like a week away Old ass red tip shells, I forgot they bang Froze ass chain or a watch, can happen anyway I was on feet, nickle on me, tryna flee away The ho that gettin' rich, big as a penny, but I see a way We done brought like e'ry drop of lean, you can't find a tray Nigga, I been chasin' chicken, look on Wally page Boy, that is not no Zazas, throw the weed away I sold a split in one day, you move a G a day Stop tryna argue with me, you be coppin' hoopsies for eight Boy, don't feel me if you never played the sport for more than three days This was a watermelon crush, but we turned it black Wait, what the fuck dawg just say? Bro, turn it back Fought my bitch, broke her phone, took her keys, then burnt her tracks Then I made her stuff 200 pills where her cervix at (Check the score) Ghetto Boy shit What up, Lou? A'ight
Writer(s): Deangelo Trent Jr Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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