Letra

Rymez Yo, ADP on beats boy Don too cold, man like clothes, he like zoots, he like Benz Always on road in the next mans ends Tryna catch a paigon slippin', just to hit him with the skeng and that's mad Cah he got a good girl and she badder than bad Every man wan' beat but she ain't like that Face too pretty but she got a little back But the nigga ain't ready for a Don like that Pull up, reverse' pull up, reverse, pull up' reverse, back it up Pull up, reverse, man do it up the curb, all now when I see X-5's, mans swerve I told shawty I don't trap, man rap, but try know I been a bad boy from birth She loves jewels, she wants shoes, now it's gotta match that Prada purse All now it's eighteen O's of dirt, all now I get a text from Sandra first Hop in my foreign and I swerve (Skrr, swerve) I always wanted to stuff my money, made me worse (Yeah) Heard you're tryna find out what I'm worth (Yeah, ahh) Every time, pull out, I make sure that they feelings hurt (Bitch) I just put a bachelor condo on my wrist, yeah (On my wrist, yeah) Can't live like this, gotta ride 'round with a stick, yeah (Pew, pew, pew) Catch me lackin' shoot me in the head, I ain't givin' up shit, yeah And I wrote for ten years, mans ain't take no diss, yeah (Yeah) She stylish and want a man like stylish Walk with five in my jean, no Wyclef Show that show, that's lightwork Said I can't get apply from Trident She wanna step and eat steak and lobster I'm tryna make her cook steamed and fried fish She likes sex and I like it too Still make her mind colorful I don't want my man on the road no more I don't wanna do M, Fly O no more Come home and come show me that Who gonna answer when the fiends dem call? Who's gonna answer when the feds dem knock? Beatin' down doors and you're doing up spots I know feds on me cah I got two stripes, yeah I'm scared if they hit it with a third, I'm gone It loves me, I gotta love it back Course I do, 'cause it brought me back I didn't trap, couldn't buy me a Gucci bag, so I bought me a cube of crack Been in the trap for years, so you know that the gang ain't new to waps Still tryna juggle this trap and rap, all of my fiends turn, facts Hop in my foreign and I swerve (Skrr, swerve) I always wanted to stuff my money, made me worse (Yeah) Heard you're tryna find out what I'm worth (Yeah, ahh) Every time, pull out, I make sure that they feelings hurt (Bitch) I just put a bachelor condo on my wrist, yeah (On my wrist, yeah) Can't live like this, gotta ride 'round with a stick, yeah (Pew, pew, pew) Catch me lackin' shoot me in the head, I ain't givin' up shit, yeah And I wrote for ten years, mans ain't take no diss, yeah (Yeah)
Writer(s): Rodney Kumbirayi Hwingwiri, Amish Dilipkumar Patel, Navraj Goraya, Stephanie Victoria Allen, Irving Ampofo Adjei Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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