Get on my level ho, get on my level bitch
36 and Minnesota, you know who you fuckin’ with
Baby girl got the pistol hangin’ straight out a Prada bag
We don’t care who you or where you’re from
We still run up on you like, Wassup!
Wassup, wassup, wassup with them cookies
I’m a triple OG sell propane, we street bang you a rookie
I’m a mother fucking problem, what the problem be?
I’m just probably just spit this verse and make sure you just coming after me
We so damn cray, rapapapa bababa ya
Shake that ass on dick and make me cum
I don’t fuck with no nigga, up top I learn it from
I will run in the streets all day and all night
If you don’t believe that shit, I'll tell you shit you've never seen
DC Maryland that’s the scene, ???
Peanut boogie boobie ricco pretty boy ..?
Tell me if you see my niggas round my way for make believe
Yeah
Dirty pop, take a dirty Glock and pop you off the block
Pull that trigger look away and cry about it nada
Pile it up under my bed and stuff some in my sock
Never you knew you shock to synthesize just want your Pradas
4th route of the cities DC, Maryland, PG, and VA
Slangin’ dope, now audio dope but we pushin’ dope (cocaina!)
Fuck women, weed, and weather got the bitches
Hoosie heather still addicted to that waister that we rap about
Take a dirty Glock and pop you off the block
Pull the trigger look away and cry about it later
Pile it all up in my closets, stuff some in my sock
Never lose your shock to senses for Balenciaga, Gucci, Louis
Belts and Cartier we ran at buddies house
I saw some panties on the floor and thought of buddy's spouse
Yeah my nigga got no pussy what I’m ‘bout to do
I mean her room right there, so should I knock or just intrude?
What it do?
(x2)
Squaaash club nigga we the mother fucking truth
Bitch niggas copping b’s asking for a truce
Throw a middle finger up and tell them niggas suck it
Nigga I don’t tweet, I get to fighting then I bust ‘em
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
