Tekst Utworu

Spazzed out, the homie pulled his gat, then he blacked out Clapped out, jumped in this Benz, then he smashed out Crash out, them CA exempt car tags out She always talkin' 'bout these millions, oh, what's that 'bout? Cash flow, if you ain't got it, you'll go flat broke You blew all the money, what the fuck you do that for? Mastro's, want the butter cake and the Wagyu I ain't gotta do it, shit, my lil' niggas'll pack you Initiated, got my hood tatted, it's abbreviated When the homie snitched, I was humiliated My last ho, baby gave me everything I asked for But she ran off when I got down to my last dough I'm up now, everybody so hard to trust now Dealin' with the hate way more than the love now Let guns down, squabble with your homie, just don't stomp him out 'Cause that's an easy way to get you bust down Touchdown, try to block my food, oh, you lunch now At a function in the hood, gettin' drunk now You on now, that's why these fuck niggas want you gone now To every real nigga fresh out, welcome home now We gon' keep poppin' champagne We gon' keep lookin' good, and we gon' stay dangerous I don't know why you actin' tough over there, boy You know when we was little Your mama wouldn't let you hang with us (it's Remble) That man told and they didn't even offer time yet I know he snitched and he didn't even drop the dime yet These people changed, you can watch it on your Timex A cold snake, I wonder how you haven't died yet He kept swinging, so I hit him with the sidestep Like, silly rabbit, why would you go against my TEC? A bodybuilder, I can see it in your biceps A street fighter, you should get rid of that mindset Take these shells, let it go up the stair Your homies go to cemeteries, you can follow them there We shot him out his True Religion, he could squabble a bear I bring a gun to every fight, I am not squabbling fair Ruth's Chris after missions, bro, you gotta be player You shouldn't feel the need to speak if you don't have any paper How did you let them catch you slippin', bro? You gotta be safer You tried to give out all those fades and then you ended up tapered, Remble L.A., The Bay, New York, Detroit Miami, Atlanta, New Orleans, Dallas Portland, Seattle, Phoenix, Alabama Cleveland, Minnesota, New Jersey, we takin' off (Like I said, who gon' find me first?)
Writer(s): 0, Jeremy Issac Nash, Eunique Remble Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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