Lyrics

You fuck around get smoked You fuck around, you fuck around, you fuck around, get smoked, nigga You fuck around get smoked Uh, niggas know the rules in my hood, if you touch me, you get murked We ain't with that back and forth, it ain't no rap, we hittin' first G-5, we be at LIV by Sunday when you in the Church Momma stresses, selling dinner platers, tryna get your casket, and get ya hearse Last nigga that slid on us, got dropped on it, he told on us Every nigga you see with me got ice on 'em, bank rolls on us Naw, nigga no 1 on 1's we don't fight fair, we just roll on 'em V-S stones and cuban linx, all that ice wear with that gold on 'em We ain't swinging no flag, nigga We ain't need no pass, nigga Glock 40 with a 30 clip and laser on it, play tag with us Everybody wanna talk bricks 'till them feds, swoop in and grab niggas Dream chasers got into something, we don't never bleak cause we trash niggas I don't know if y'all heard about my homie doing that 30 out Deen Buck still in the cut and stay fittin' to let Ernie out I ain't even gotta say nothin' 'bout that other homie that you heard about Cause if he heard about the truth, run your mouth He come to your house and start swervin' out Catch me in Y-C, out Shadyville, I'm in the tank Only time this Manhattan when I'm in the booth or I'm in the bank Summertime in La Marina with Dominicans going in the paint Pullin' up screamin' Dimelo catch you in Brooklyn, get pita rolled puss! You fuck around get smoked You fuck around, you fuck around, you fuck around, get smoked, nigga You fuck around get smoked
Writer(s): Matthew Samuels, Allen Ritter, Nicki Minaj, Anderson Hernandez, Herbert Randall Wright Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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