गाने

Uh, sleezy Oh my God, Ronny Mula! Fuck the fame, I can't switch Pussy niggas ain't this They ain't gang, gang shit Red beam, can't miss Adios, gotta go Knock your soul, out your clothes Whippin' O's, out the bowl I get dough, I control Pull up in the vein, switch Flexin' with your main bitch Still sellin' 'caine bricks Talking sign language I sell dope, lot of blow I'm Pablo, El Chapo Tippie toe and prod it up Dolce and Gabbana, ho Woah, woah, woah, woah Ride four deep like carpool Bitch on my 'Gram like it's art school Big Tommy-gun like cartoon Shoot niggas down with the harpoon Niggas comin' home for my stake bitch Where the bricks at? Gotta take the kids Where the bricks at? We gon break your ribs In the Lamborghini, that's the getaway Dual exhaust, the smoke be puffin' in your face Niggas talk, they oh, so frontin', okay Niggas claim, oh so you banging? You fake (Okay, okay, okay) Pull up on a oppa, pass the chopper, turn them inside out (Okay) Pull up on the house in a Aston, put it in your mouth See me in the streets, money stickin' to my cleats Got heaters, you want to beef, got reapers, you wanna leap Ayy, it's Z, Turbo Porsche cream Stretch Limousine, got the Glock in my jeans Bitch, I serve fiends, got the rocks in my sleeves Bitch, I flip beans, cops outside, then leave In the Lamborghini, that's the getaway Dual exhaust, the smoke be puffin' in your face Niggas talk, they oh, so frontin', okay Niggas claim, oh so you banging? You fake (Okay, okay, okay)
Writer(s): Ronald Spence Jr., Vinicius Sosa, Junius Rogers Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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