Burnin' trap canna
Got spots in Atlanta
I'm ridin' down
I'm burnin' on Cane
My blicks ain't jam
Got six gun cannisters
We Indo fam I got Atlanta
Ridin' down track, got ten P's on me
Six different iPhones I got easy
Bait one, drain one, it's too easy
Futuristic spaceship, niggas is easy
Feds tryin' to intercept package
100k inside the dresser drawer
That shit perfect I swear she ain't got a flaw
Ain't no flossin', you know I spit that raw
Where I'm from, yeah you know we gon' break the law
Going up on lil fire I want that neck
Since he thinks that he tough, I'ma break his neck
Aaron Rodgers, I'm putting green on the jet
On the Eastside, I be puttin' on, fuck the set
Where I'm from, I'm the man, a fucking legend
Gotta keep that shit real with my fam and brothers
Pushin' Indo go spit that shit like a reverend
Sticking dick in this tall bitch, she 5'11
I'm the master my number is 27
Got the tropical punch for the 27
I got killas inside the A I be
Nigga Fuck this music, I be movin' them units
I roll my sleeves up, I run through 'em
On the call on FaceTime, ridin' with the black 9
Backhand hit you from the backside
Bowlegged Charger yeah you cap
Nigga try me, gon' get his ass capsized
Oh you get money, yeah nigga likewise
Me and shorty locked in we got soul ties
I be on the shroom boys I don't do the perctens
I was in the foreign car trappin' after days end
I was in the hood havin'
You can get a P for that nigga quit Playin'
You wasnt fuckin' with Alpha Bay quit Playin'
Still eating hot fries, you don't know real pain till you see a friend die
I was catching 100 bag plays with a bad eye
Rich already, a nigga ain't gotta spit rhymes
Burnin' trap canna
Got spots in Atlanta
I'm ridin' down
I'm burnin' on Cane
My blicks ain't jam
Got six gun cannisters
We Indo fam I got Atlanta
Ridin' down track, got ten P's on me
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
