(Yeah)
I'ma be at the goal right with you (Ha)
Spot, we can get up with you (Ah)
Now I tell that ho to shut up, listen (Brree)
Now she suck my dick like she got lisp
Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah
Hold up, had to make that bag (Ha)
Hold up, I'm in my bag
Had to make a pitstop to that cash (Yeah)
These niggas playin' with me right now
How you running and you comin' in last?
Yeah, let that chopper go blast
Leave that nigga up in the past (We love you, Tecca)
Leave that nigga up in the grass
Chopper make him dance
They like "You grew up too fast"
No, I had to get off my ass
Run that pack, like dash
Smoking on good exotic gas
Glock give the boy a rash
Promise you don't wanna clash
Big balling, feel like Nash
When they hit me, I'm like "Yeah"
I'm hit on a ho like, yeah
Make her say Yeah (Yeah), yeah
All-black Mercedez, yeah
Lil' bro, you can't be serious (No)
These lil' niggas delirious
Hop in that whip and then kill a queer
I didn't mean to hurt you, tears
Yeah, ha-ha-ha
Tell that ho "Bye-bye"
Fuck her then kick her out my house (Yeah)
These fake ass niggas tryna reach out
Lil' Faygo had to stop that simpin' and pimp it out (Brree-rree)
Took the top off (Skrrt), I'm sending top back
Yes, I see that nigga flexin', tell that nigga stop that (Woah, woah)
These lil' niggas, they simps
'Cause if I don't get killed by a pussy-ass nigga, it ain't worth the kill
She said "Faygo, you too real"
And I'ma be at the goal right with you (Ha)
Yeah, I'ma get up with you
Have a nigga up that lil' stick with you, yeah
Ain't no family, ain't no picture
Yeah, knock a nigga out the picture
Tell me who the fuck gon' miss you?
Nigga, please don't cry, I don't keep tissues (Yeah)
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
