Lyrics:
was really a bitch
And I was raised by my papi, can you tell 'em they'll never win
And they get caught up in the sin, round here we drink for free
change
In an age where the art justifies intellects
My campaign strives to re-elect the man who got struck by the bow and arrow
You're at yours to truly
ever knows
Everything I wanna say held hostage in my throat
Like I'm just a child playing house in grown up clothes
Editing the structure till it all
im greeting bitches wit hugs
probably never get a chance if you meet me at a club
but you can get dick when i feel like it
it's a party in my bedroom
the top is always lonely
All i want is top i got some in house pussy
Riding on edge hope a nigga don't push me
Big faced bills giving coins to my kids
I can
froze chandelier
Nigga you broke can’t shop in here
I’m keeping the pole that Glock in here
The cat be wet my cock in there
One in the head no cocking
dusty, with a hole in the front
And I'd get mad at Lil Slugger, he put a hole in the blunt
When my daddy lost the house, moved with grandma for a month
broken chair
Wicked couldn't gone near, have
To be in fear, i would say
(yeah)
For mi say, on my way on to Devon's House
Sight a little girl by di name
of tracks
To add to the wall full of plaques
Hanging up in the office in back of my house like trophies
Did y'all think I'ma let my dough freeze?
Please
of tracks
To add to the wall full of plaques
Hanging up in the office in back of my house like trophies
Did y'all think I'ma let my dough freeze?
Ho
of tracks
To add to the wall full of plaques
Hanging up in the office in back of my house like trophies
Did y'all think I'ma let my dough freeze?
Ho
Yo, let's go, look, yo
I got a large bag of clips, hard hats, and sticks
My squad tagging shit, y'all catch attempts
You leave the house, have some
some shells for the 40
Then I throw the set for my brody
While I'm in the trap smoking dhoti
Fuck nigga, you ain't with me
Heard you looking for me
apart let's go one at a time
I know you'll be shocked by the shit that you find
It's Westwood Lane Gang we in here taking lives
Welcome to the party
Laying in a puddle full of what I was
Looking up had me dissolving in the sludge
But I'm good
I spent forty days and forty nights
Pen and the pad
to her I said hello
She said: "Hey, you're kind of cute" I said: "Yes, I know, but...
By the way, sweetheart, what's your name?"
She said: "My friends
to the ceiling but got to get some more
My niggas on that give an go
We hit her with that pick and roll
If you not really with the shits
Well wtf u in here fo
Slave labor, Skyscraper, murder stories
Bullshit behind every burger sold
This what they feeding shorties?
Holding onto middle management but in his 40
to some fake bosses
All I see is house niggas in the same office
Universal mind control I filled my verse with facts and all fact-check through my Catalogue
shotgun pellets and squeezin'
They be knowin' your house plans 'cause her mouth ran
40 grand up inside of the Maxwell House can
The key is loyalty, never
the smoke
Where the drink
Where the lean at
Throw a fifth back
Summer nights in New York we gone miss that
Everybody yelling run it back forty
Won't you let
I’m 44, gave Ya 23 of me here’s to 40 more
Gave ya 23 of me, I’m boutta double, I put my darkest days behind me that’s because of rap
Ya complainin
for me
I'll make you feel like you fighting four of me
Quadruple threat even in my forties
I be transcending space and time though
Old today young buck
Gang
Gang
Yeah, yeah
(Yeah, gang)
Gang, gang
Bitch, I keep that tool in my jacket
Back when I was broke, had to go back to trapping
I had 40 bands,
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