Lyrics | Song Title |
Say I didn't love you, you know a n**** loved you Did you forget to mention? All the things I did for you, times I made a trip 'Cause I know you hate the distance | |
Fresh out, outta the bed, count up the (Title) (Bow, bow) We heard what you said, we heard what you said If I wasn't trappin', I'd be wrappin' up them bundles | |
Why you bother me? (Yah) Last time I checked you were the one that left (The one) Me in a wreck—yah—, me in a mess (Yah, yah) | |
You got room in your phone for one more distraction Wonderful times Time is moving too slow for me to distract you I need to get back to you | |
These hoes not f*****, not coming All the hoes that you call are not coming She know if she not f*****, she truckin' | |
Hustler, hustler, hustler (Hustler) I'm hiding the brick in the muffler (Hah) It's a knock at my door, it's a customer (F*** him up) | |
Blunt smoke, smoke weed, codeine, cough Tell that b**** that I'm awesome, better back the f*** up off me Coco, Céline, Tiffany, she flossy (oh) | |
I don't get weak in the knees Hundreds spread out like a fan Vert feel like some Gucci sandals Open the sky, get a handful | |
I shot it, and I woke up with blood all around me It's mine, I didn't die, but as I was dying God came to my side and we talked about it He sold me another life | |
The people I've met, and the places I've been Are all what make me the man I so proudly am But I wanna know one thing, when did I become a (Title)? | |
Main attraction, made a habit, dance while you lean on me No cap and no distractions when I make it home | |
I need you to stop runnin' back to your ex, he’s a wasteman I wanna know, how come we can never slash and stay friends? | |
Well, thank God for the shooter, hmm And thank God for the leader, hmm And think hard for a message | |
Church bells and choir sounds, tell 'em, 'Quiet down' Bow your head, the Most High's around cocktails Guys and gals miss me, ties and gowns happen now | |
I can't keep on losing you over complications Gone too soon, wait! We was just hangin' I can't seem to hold onto, (Title) | |
B****. I'm ultimate When I flow, I drop bombs like a Soviet Not a communist, but I'm anonymous Zero tolerance if n**** talking s*** | |
| Lyrics | Song Title |
Hail Mary, Jesus and Joseph The great American flag is wrapped in drag with explosives Compulsive disorder, sons and daughters Barricaded blocks and borders | |
Okay, my money way longer than a Nascar race I told her keep going on the gas, f*** the brakes Only here for one night, let me put it on your face | |
Suckin' on my dick, like she new to this Blowin' through the check, yeah we new to this | |
I say s*** when I rap and y'all n***** barely listen I do the most for the culture, n****, by just existing Delete my tweets 'cause I'm ashamed of being a f***** Simpson | |
Wait hold up, back in this mothafuckin' b**** once again It's the pretty mothafucka with a 40 ounce of brew My n**** (artist) and we drunker than a b**** | |
Blast off, buckshot into my ceilin' Why ain't nobody tell me I was bleedin'? Please, nobody pinch me out this dream | |
Is your house big? Is your car nice? Is your girl fine? F*** her all night? Is you well paid? Are your shows packed? | |
I've been in and out the courthouse, jury tripping I've been flipping, flipping, syrup sipping (Flipping) Water whippin' (Whippin') | |
I'm thinkin' 'bout (Title) (For what?) It's hard to pop **** with my grill in (Ha) I can't let it f*** up my flow | |
A f*** n****, that's that s*** (Title) (bang bang) A snitch n****, that's that s*** (Title) (bang bang) A b**** n****, that's that s*** (Title) (bang bang, haha!) | |
(Title) keep it real with his people (Title) like a preacher, (Title) prolly still sell reefer | |
I see you in the city Do they know you're with me Are you with me, baby? Girl you're with me baby | |
Tweakin', tweakin' off that 2C-B, huh Is he gon' make it? TBD, huh Thought I was gon' run DMC, huh | |
Ice will come with the fame Flowers cover the grave Power, love, and loyalty Wash me clean today | |
Who would have dreamed this? You couldn't mean this It would be some type of meanness to where you are 'Cause I don't know where to go And no one else seems to know | |
I done did the jackin', now I'm full rappin' I put on my brothers, I put on my b**** Had to wear the dress 'cause I had a stick | |
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