Paroles

(Everything Mvjor) (Iceberg want a bag, bitch) Uh, yeah, I'm in LA smoking 'Woods of exotic opps Flew with the Glock on the plane, don't get mollywhopped Killers with me, no, we don't need a bodyguard Mm-mm, nope, no, I poured an eight of the Wock' in exotic pop Designer don, wear Forces with Gucci socks He was hating on the low, fucked around, got the nigga dropped Uh, fucked around, got the nigga dropped Shots at his head, ain't no need for him to call the doc Dissing the gang, that's the shit got your partner shot Got the drops from a bitch, should've knew not to trust a thot Damn, but you should've knew that That's type of shit that'll get a ho blew back Call me Scarr Iron, might beat a ho blue-black Hellcat, it's fat, this bitch come with some run flats Uh, yeah, snatch your pole off your hip No, you can't get your gun back Grim Reaper Gang, fuck around, get your soul snatched Youngins, they ready to step like a doormat Woah, but you should've knew that I heard he got shot and he ain't get to shoot back Prepared for the bitch, yeah, we ready for comeback Freaky lil' bitch eat me up like a fruit snack Uh, yeah, capping on what? Boy, you know you ain't do that Big Scarr hang out the scat with the Dracs shooting, who next? We no ID, y'all could tell just like, "Who that?" Uh, yeah, like, "Who this?" Spin a opp block, put that on my to-do list Still'll mask up and go slide, I don't do hits These niggas rap capping, my gang really do this Uh, woah, these niggas boys, you know that we grew to this Your bitch in my phone and she sending me nudity AR shoot flames, this bitch came with a cooling kit Stop claiming the body, you know you ain't do the shit Used to be broke, now I'm stupid rich Got on my shit, I ain't got time for the foolishness Uh, yeah, I'm in LA smoking 'Woods of exotic opps Flew with the Glock on the plane, don't get mollywhopped Killers with me, no, we don't need a bodyguard Mm-mm, nope, no, I poured an eight of the Wock' in exotic pop Designer don, wear Forces with Gucci socks He was hating on the low, fucked around, got the nigga dropped Uh, fucked around, got the nigga dropped Shots at his head, ain't no need for him to call the doc Dissing the gang, that's the shit got your partner shot Got the drops from a bitch, should've knew not to trust a thot Damn, but you should've knew that That's type of shit that'll get a ho blew back Call me Scarr Iron, might beat a ho blue-black Hellcat, it's fat, this bitch come with some run flats
Writer(s): Dylan J. Berg, Mikul Thomas, Alexander Woods, Quezz Ruthless Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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