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Lean Chronicles (feat. Leewayy)
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rio Da Yung OG
Rio Da Yung OG
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Rio Da Yung OG
Rio Da Yung OG
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Enrgy Beats
Enrgy Beats
Producer

Songteksten

(I got so much energy) Okay Come on OTF, nigga Hey Lately, I've been feeling all the hate, what should I do with niggas? Feel my fingers touch the pape', ain't shit to prove to niggas I'm big dog, who let you off the leash? You a poodle, nigga No CCW, don't need a class, just a shooter nigga Pine-Sol, if it's on the floor, then come move it, nigga Slime ball, I'll call lil' bro to come goo a nigga Time, dog, if he move too slow, I'm in suit the nigga Told you how I'm really out my top, I'm a ruthless nigga I'm too busy chasing Ws, I can't chase you, bitch But don't forget that I'm the nigga that made you, bitch Told my opp, "You a broke pussy, I slayed you, bitch" Damn, hold on, hold on, hold on That's what you told the nigga? Yeah, come on, bro, just kick this bitch back up Ho, I can't pop the hood to get the Glock, I'll shake you, bitch Or slam your pussy ass on the ground, I'll pave you, bitch You don't know gymnastics with this K, but I'll make you flip This purple that I got from so-and-so, it'll make you shit (ugh) Honestly, you too honest for me, who made you snitch? Who? Alright, yeah Watch this I wonder if they get the message, I ain't going broke Ran up damn near 300 racks at that corner store You could catch me in the hood where you wouldn't wanna go Or down south, I asked them niggas what they get the oranges for Oh, y'all paying 80 what? I'm finna send a load Matter of fact, I'm shooting off right now, bitch, where you finna go? After 12:00 a.m., ain't no catching sales, bitch, the kitchen closed 30 shells will wet him like a whale, they going fishing for him Throw the nigga in the lake, we treat him like bait High as fuck, thought I was finna nut, I peed in her face Casket open, hit him in the chest, I let him keep his face Made 60 racks in six hours, I'm going to sleep at eight Treat his head like a pint of red, we finna bust it open I know you ain't finna snatch my chain, you see me clutching, don't you? 40 bullets like a pedophile, they keep touching on you How the fuck it's beef if we ain't never dropped a hundred on you? Some Northside niggas looking for me, I'm at Alger's place My pockets stuffed with blue huns, you got all the space Me and Diesel going eight for eight, we got all the drank Drop 200 shots in the crowd and make you crawl away Ghetto Boyz shit, man Know what the fuck going on
Writer(s): Deangelo Trent Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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