Tekst Utworu

(ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob) I pop out a Rolls set, all baguette I ain't fuckin' with you, bitch, I think I'm all that (swerv') Hit my accountant, gave him 600 thousand, all checks Got like six foreign whips, they all black, they all matte Fuck her and don't call back She get stressed, now she stressed, she get wet off a text She get text just for sex, I don't bap, I don't flex (phew) Then I'm on to the next, I be gone off the neck (huh) Hit the phone when it's dead, turn the home into black Eliante, VVS, ain't no Chrome on my neck (you know that) How he livin' like that? He ain't got no platinum plaques Swervo pulled up, all roses, me and foe'nem, back to back We them niggas out the 'Raq, rap, but we don't gotta rap All black whip to blick the MAC, it ain't nothin' to get you whacked In the studio with MACs, so I might forget to rap Where I'm from, like Vietnam, most my bitches from the 'Raq We just good at postin' a gun, never made them bitches clap Yeah, ain't really ate nothin' today, but some beans, boy We ain't gon' tell you that you food, we just gon' eat, boy Turn me up a little, boy, I can't hear them niggas You play Malcolm Middle, then you droppin' the rental (hmm) I ain't no worried 'bout no fake-ass, lame-ass Suckin' dick for a deal, gay-ass rapper nigga Like a birthday cake, you get your face smashed, ASAP Snipers always first to strike, 'cause I don't like to pay back At racetrack, I'm sellin' gas, Charmin, I'm on niggas ass Brand new 'Rari, bought it cash, totin' a carbon, I'm with a flash I run from bitches, fall in love with me too fast I don't run from smoke, this shit for sure, go ask the task (ATL Jacob)
Writer(s): Herbert Randall Wright, Jacob Atl Jacob Canady, Bill K. Kapri, Jacobi Chamor Faux Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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