Laykx (Ayy)
Redboi shit, you know what the fuck going on, man
Ayy, 2020 takeover, man, you know what the fuck going on
Y'all niggas be squealing to the Jakes
Let's do it
Off of the Wock' in a coma, we in a Rover
Four in the back with the toaster
Meiro, he gripping that .30
We slapping the stick and you do what we say, no controller
I'm coming over to fuck
You coming over, she tell you she want you to hold her
My niggas love to get over
You got the racks and my niggas pull up like a chauffeur
I'ma go get me a Bentley, BB on the buckle
Or maybe just throw on the Fendi
Niggas, they filled up with envy
If you got a problem, it's fifty rounds up in this semi
Who wanna tweak? (Tweak)
I'll even call sis, and this be your last night like you Diddy
It can get tricky
When bullets start flying, you better get down or get with me
LV be giving me powers, dust off the belt
These some jiggas got me up for hours
I just might drop me a xanny (Xanny)
Let it dissolve, that shit kinda taste a lil' sour (Sour)
I'm high, I'm up with the towers
Think that's your bitch? Well, nigga, I think that it's ours
.30 clip, shoot us a movie
Talk on the net, but ain't show nigga you was a coward
Two fake accounts getting busy (Busy)
Go and load up at the bank
Yeah, my niggas stay with me (They with me)
Love to them bitches be bustin' (They bustin')
Two for the twenty, but I don't know, you seeming iffy
I'ma have K2 go zoo him for all of his racks
I'm the man, so I'm thinking I'm fifty
Trust me, my niggas get sitchy
Got me a navy, so I got a Glock with a switchy
Coupe switching (Skrrt)
Where I leave my cup, I think my Act missing
Probably left it right next to my Wock
Man, I be Yac sipping
Run off with the pack and, bitch, it's
"Fuck you, I be pack flipping" (Fuck you)
All your racks missing (Ayy)
K2 wiped them off, we ain't splitting
Reckless in the building, everybody stop and stare (They stop and stare)
All this money, now your bitch all under me like underwear (Underwear)
All these fake ass fucking rappers, time to pull a fucking chair
Like y'all ain't living what y'all rapping, y'all don't even fucking care
Since a shorty, we been trapping
We ain't have no shit to wear (To wear)
Now it's Gucci on my collar, but it's hate all in the air
Like when you make it out the mud
You got no choice, you gotta share
Y'all weren't with me from the jump
Y'all said my music wasn't clear (Bitch)
Groupie bitch, she hit my phone
And she get blue when I don't answer (Thot)
Yeah, I tote the SIG, you want some smoke, we give you cancer
Exotic bowls from Carlos, only smoke exotic dancers
Your bitch, we ran her
Kicked her out, we got no manners
Late nights we was posted
We was loaded with them .40 cals (40s)
We got forty down, we give no zip if four gon' blow him down
Copping, chasing sacks since we was jits
No, he ain't stopping now
With Moe, he in the back
He brought the Xannies, now I'm slowing down
Bitch, I'm Balenci' stepping, uh
And I still tote my weapon (Ayy)
We got bullets, send you to the master in less than a second
Pull up on his block and make him freeze
We got that nigga guessing
Cocking back, lil' bro, he get to sweating
Give his ass eleven
Trackhawk get to shredding (Skrrt)
Niggas solid, they ain't never telling (Never)
I can't get a timeout from the money, I ain't never resting
Eazzyy, where you heading? (Huh?)
To the top while all you niggas flexing
I don't do the texting
If it's beef, I hope you catch a blessing, ayy
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
