Lyrics:
in the back preney
Over little shit you do, pretty hitting in me
What you done for me? Robbery, pray the po'
Acting like it was my homie, just
Sinatra mind frame
Don’t swerve in my lane
Might run you over let the brains Hang
Grill of my Denali blood stained
Stand in my way
Imma let the tech spray
Don't wanna hang up on
It's just I'm hung up on you
Don't wanna hang up on you
Gotta get over you
It's a shame that nothing helps
Cause there was a time
think he Uncle Ruckus
I left Jimmy, they was spending silly with my budget
And now I'm rolling with some cooler niggas I can fuck with
You by
a sinner like Jeremiah Cole
But I think it's kinda funny how no person can go one day without sinning
Don't you think that's kinda strange
I think it's
Baylor
I know a Nigga got caught with the work by the feds real swift he was tryna' move Taylor
I know a Nigga who died real gun real hit and his niggas
I don't need to paint
I painted over ten thousand paintings
Sad ones, funny ones, dark ones and light ones
I've done haystacks and rich old ladies by
got a problem with no Taylor can you help me fit in
300$ dollars for a pair just take a selfie in 'em
Few thousand followers to share in our unhealthy
his knee on my neck
His partners standin by and he watchin me losin my breath
I can't breathe mama I'm fina die can you help me please
They don't give
Migrate to Oakland lay low with my dog Spice
Hang out with killers and dodge device
Gotta pay the price took a life or maybe two (was it two?)
I wouldn't
a dime
For what comes naturally
And if I never knew the truth
Well shed be fine with me
One night she stayed over here
And left her little black
right fall back fall back
Lay low get right lay low lay low
Money on my mind tho
Mo money mo money
No hang with no lame tho
No hang no hang
Gotta get
funny shit im on one
Pull off with the booty
Hang over my shoulder
Wont tell how its ending
I feel like im oda
I feel like im luffy
They killing my
Bob sits at home and smokes pot
But his twelve-year old brother looks up to him an awful lot
And Bob likes to hang out at the local waffle spot
Bob sits at home and smokes pot
But his twelve-year old brother looks up to him an awful lot
And Bob likes to hang out at the local waffle spot
Well, there was this movie I seen one time
About a man riding 'cross the desert and it starred Gregory Peck
He was shot down by a hungry kid trying
stare right at Me in my eyes while you cream all over my dick
I fell in love with you, When you didn't even love yourself, Everything about you sexy
You
The only one that can judge me
She can't even touch me
I'm screwing up my face it's getting musty
Never rusty don't be funny that's my skin tone
They pull me
rep the Lord in my own culture I ain't sorry
They don't get why I'd choose a Caprice over a rarri
Hang a cross on the rearview I'm looking at it hardly
down
All this niggas hating and they faking, they bullshitting
Game is over check me in
Checkmate, I'm rolling the dice
Give me my rollie, give my
the doja
I hang her like a poster
Then about face her and bend over
She said I’ll never be with her
Now I ball she trying to blitz me
Funny now I can diss
?Slalucci?, kicking like Bruce Lee
I make G's off a pen and some looseleaf
I'm gone with the wind as soon as I begin
And if my girl act funny, I bag her friend
nobody want the pissed Lil Dicky
You the funny kid, that's where your car go
That metaphor about my lane, if your retardo
I'm bubbling like I'm in
a bit
Oooh, my baby gets around a bit...
Took her to the local bar
Where I like to hang
Every guy that passed her by
They all seemed to know her name
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