Lyrics:
nigga on resume what reference you got
Skin nigga, post up by the block, they can't block my shot
Seven-six-two, shells fully loaded on the marble
You pay for this fucking, you gone have to marry me
Baby I don't see the issue
Kiss you goodbye and you turning the corner
It's crazy I already miss you
the hood with the 17
Year-olds that's on hood patrol
And they want stripes
So they shoot off bikes
And you know any moment you
Can lose your life
So kiss
the evening
You're leaving out the building as you kiss your girl goodbye
Thought you was safe and got caught by surprised
"What's goin on?", as I reply
"Shut
figured
I got my hand on the motherfucking trigger
What I saw'll make your ass start giggling
Three blind, crippled and crazy senior citizens
I live by
ass bitch at my side
but I got some bomb ass weed in my ride)
Nothin but notches, booches
Fill my pockets, hit 'em up everyday, gotta have my pay
Cruiser, yellow 'Lac on rims
Drop yellow 'Vette and a platinum Rolls Royce
That's seven different cars, everyday I got a choice
On my way to pick up
Cruiser, yellow 'Lac on rims
Drop yellow 'Vette and a platinum Rolls Royce
That's seven different cars, everyday I got a choice
On my way to pick up
split your shit open
I don't need a knife
I'm on my hate shit, AK shit
Step on my shoes
I shoot you in the face bitch
So what the fuck is up? You niggas
make sure them lame ass niggas get killed this year and that's a bet
In my first song dropped a diss
Man I hate them pussy bitches
no understandment
I'm
working like a bitch til the end
Did you learn how to wipe your ass, congratulations
Now we are all ready to bow to you and your whole nation
Kiss my ass
I
deff)
Get money Ova flowin boss bitch what's up
Don't give me a short summa
I got the whole damn year
Temp tag on Maserati is a boss bitch year
You
popped like Tic Tacs (Tic Tacs)
Lil' nigga, I got a big bag (O oh)
Kiss her goodbye, I don't kiss ass (Nope)
Smoke big 'Woods, no Zig-Zags (Gas)
Fuck 12,
Yeah, yeah
Pella daGoat bitch
And y'all know I stay with that crackee G7 but, you know
Look, look
Boy, these lame ass hoes ain't built like me
Won't take
rappin' like a nigga hit the lottery
3 years blew up I'm a prodigy
No indecision with my writtens, my flow
Or my fuckin' vision
My style is really forbidden
bitch, (uh-uh)
Niggas fakin', they be counterfeit, (uh-huh)
Put belt da ass, it's better with the switch, (uh-huh)
Fuck all the opps, them niggas ain't
with this shit up out my kitchen
I'm pitching that it's really good
Smoking, drinking, I'm like a fish
And I'll probably shit on ya bitch
Probably
with this shit up out my kitchen
I'm pitching that it's really good
Smoking, drinking, I'm like a fish
And I'll probably shit on ya bitch
Probably
to riches, I ain't tryna go back to the rags
My new lil' bitch been tripping, I ain't really tryna be no dad
I thought you seen it in me, I'm a star
Won't
at it for years
Year 7, CB, I would battle my peers
Insane I'm the same kid
Drinkin' gasoline spittin' fire David Blaine shit
Blazed in a basement
Craving
on a new foreign, road runner
Pull up on me when I call
Oh 2018 your year? we gon' see
How many of you niggas ball
Versace boxers all on my ass
Every day
Brown, Trey Songz, Pusha T, No Malice, I'm on your ass
Four score and seven years ago, y'all niggas Were still biting the flow
Whether on wax
get smaller by the day 'cause
They can't get up out my lane
Don't have no heart, that
Shit in the ground
You can't dig it with a shovel
Spin his block,
and then they clique hopping
Hip shaking ass niggas run around the city tik toking
Ia blow a kiss into the crowd if yo bitch watching
Biggest barker next
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