Lyrics:
And a judge for a priest, jury taking seats
Now your married to the streets, death do us apart
My next move to the charts, French movin' that Parkay (yeah,
of a master
You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard
A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats
Break necks of broke souls who hate me
Hate he? you can't
by her aura she wanna shot caller
Dippin' in the 'lac (slow) 3 in the back (oh)
2 if ya fat (aha) pimpin' is a fact
Fresh up out the street hot
(Yeah), nobody pretends (Yeah)
Don't trust them bitches, nobody your friends
You see I married the streets but fell in love with the music
Treated my bitch
She belong to the streets
Ain't no way out of here
Don't tell me what I need
She belong to the streets
I can tell it by the look in your face
When I
married
To who I knew not
Thought of snatching Halle up from the dreadlock
Pumping Sade, my head nod
Finally I met the perfect bitch, pardon my French
when I
Come through with French Montana
Niggas don't want no ana, on my ana
Evidence lookin' like you've been
Spillin' strawberry fanta
Blood all over
the homies, that's on me
24/7, Kendrick reppin' these cold streets
Don't we live by it, die by it, then reincarnate
And if Game told me, "Drive by it," I
french Montana and OJ ho
Flyest cars, biggest guns
Make it look like a moviе
Niggas palay that movie role
Niggas so high, whips so low living
Niggas
married to the streets so I'm carried off the streets haaa
I'm not the one to have you on a lease sign
Keeping it 100, 100 thousand dollar piece on
I get
Hearin you out is senseless, perhaps for instance
I give this faggot a french kiss
Black gloves, no prints, dark tints
Word on the street they ain't heard
Hearin' you out is senseless, perhaps for instance
I give this faggot a french kiss
Black gloves, no prints, dark tints
Word on the street they ain't
Hearin' you out is senseless, perhaps for instance
I give this faggot a french kiss
Black gloves, no prints, dark tints
Word on the street they ain't
myself?
Oh, baby, how do I do this by myself? (Montana)
Oh, baby (talk to 'em, French)
Project baby, livin' fast
Blues, I ain't breakin' half
Watch
grandma
Niggas never want the anna
I Leave em stuck like French
I'm bossed up Montana
Sada Baby he the goat
I got big dreams and hope
Roll a backwood
purr
Put in work, Flacko put 'em in the dirt
French got the shovel he gon' put him in the earth
Trinidad maniac with a all gold hearse
Yeah, uh, put
purr
Put in work, Flacko put 'em in the dirt
French got the shovel he gon' put him in the earth
Trinidad maniac with a all gold hearse
Yeah, uh, put
Montana:
Lungs fulla sour, cup fulla liquor
The hood got love for a nigga
Coke wave, macaroni with the cheese
Fly by, new ride, that's 100 G's
Bitch please,
Fresh out the gate
We gon' flood 'em
You know what it is (Hitmaker)
It's that Moroccan Sahara Desert, where it meet the ocean at (Sound)
Montana
it by myself yeah
Pray I never fail yeah yeah
Maybe I smoke too much
Drink too much
Maybe I spend too much
Smoke too much
Maybe I think too much
Smoke
Flacko put 'em in the dirt
French got the shovel he gon' put him in the earth
Trinidad maniac with a all gold hearse
Yeah, uh, put in work
Schoolboy Q with
invaded by Italy
Right side Paris left side flaggin'
Paper is is my main chick me and money married
And that's all a nigga know bitch
That's why
We left Montana Bar
To trek up and down the steepest Seattle streets
In tattered Nordstrom Rack boots
Lips manhandled like bald tires
2 AM winter air
was flawgent
Got me feeling like French Montana
They gave my dawg 75 in the slammer
That's a problem that his mama can't handle
On top of that she got
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