Lyrics:
Yeah Yeah
(It's Vbreezy)
It's Vbreezy baby
It's too easy baby (It's Flexon From Heaven)
(Draped up in my bag cause i'm out of pockets)
(Whatever I
their lessons
But when you call its time to make it up to heaven
Lord knows nothing is certain
I'm still finding my purpose
Might make mistakes but m
But this nigga B.G. goin' be dog about it
[Chorus: B.G.: x2]
Now when we come, we come, and dog we ain't playin'
It's bluka, bluka boo-yuka,
(nah)
Play with my brother, you know I get slime
I pull up and shoot 'em, I make sure they dyin'
They know that I'm ridin' (yeah)
You know it's 4L,
rum up
I'm a find me some new p****, and buy me a Four-Runner
I walk wit a limp, 'cause my nuts heavy
And I like it from tha back so hold your butt
niggas, rather kick it dolo cause u niggas trim
He try lil' babyface by walking up, he walk out wit a limp
I need a couple racks up out this game that money
it come to trappin
Macho man
When it come to savage
Ima body slam ya
Up out dat cabbage
I ain't playin wit it
Boy i gotta have it
Herndon Homes
I'm
with this rap stuff
I can say I never been punked, robbed or smacked up
I can say I never been chased, jumped or backed up
I learned to patch it up
I just been gone on a roll
And still they gone hate on your boy
Still I don't hear it I shake off the noise
You like a baby you playin' with toys
In
a demon
And my life a movie, might get narrated by Morgan Freeman
When rap money come in fast, I'll spend a bag up in at neimans
Check the driveway, it's
to turn it up respectfully
Niggas playin' with my worth, you better have a check for me
Or you better not check for me, angels standin' next to me
She
hey, hey, check it out homie
Man, you need to get up out of this spot man
And get a job man before you get smoked man
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,
thirty-six
Ha ha, only if she's 5'3
So your girlfriend rolls a Honda, playin' workout tapes by Fonda
But Fonda ain't got a motor in the back of her Honda
(slime, facts)
Black and white gon' tell it, and you snitchin', pussy, I don't smell it
Real convicted felon, strapped up, loaded, shit, this lethal
c'mon c'mon c'mon shoot that ball
C'mon Jesus let's get together
I loved you a long time ago
Way up in heaven, up in heaven, that's the hell of it
on a 747 in 35 minutes down at gate 11
If you wanna get lucky I'll take you to Heaven
He said, "I got a million dollar meeting up in New York City
If I
wake up with tears
Cause I dream of what it could've been
Playing soccer with the hype of a kid
Running on the field
Hunnid thousand people watching
My heart
Your hands
Like armour
By far the
Safest place it's ever been
Your eyes
My favorite color
Sometimes
Boy I
Can't help but wonder
If
Stay open like 7/11 that's 24/7, when you need some hot shit
Stop by and get you a beverage, I'm servin'
My rhymes like nickels and dimes
Plug it
Stay open like 7/11 that's 24/7, when you need some hot shit
Stop by and get you a beverage, I'm servin'
My rhymes like nickels and dimes
Plug it
hard, a good gangsta nigga, blow a stack up
Time still movin' and shit, stay on the grind, it's just excuses
Girls lookin' at you, you useless (word?)
out with Russ, then Vic Mensa, then Ambré
I popped up at Spades and I popped up at Vandals
And my sister keep askin' why I got blocked by Solana
It's
the pill carry
Carry hits till your buried
Mother Mary said they make you think this world is scary
Long from the thought of pain aged by days it only takes
on the curb
It's the New Bag Gang don't pass me no dirt
Rappers talking out they ass
Breath smelling like Turds
Niggaz in the Ghetto
Trying to move up
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