7.62
Yfn Lucci
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(Pipe that shit up TnT) (Dmac on the fuckin' track) I say, oh, oh, yeah, look In the back of the Benz, I just got it painted The grill gold-plated, huh, my crib still gated But we ain't used to have not a dollar, we would go and take it Robberies and Grand Theft Autos, I can't fake it They told me don't be trippin' about it, I can't save it A whole lotta money bring problems But if a nigga play, we gon' get him murdered tomorrow Wanna see me demonstrate? '87 T-Top Cutly, put it on the interstate Solitaire Dior bucket, they can't even see my face These hoes they want me to chase, I don't keep my sneakers laced I don't ride straight A, my key can't go to no valet Flew my cars out to LA I sold so many balls in this bitch we gon' need to vacate We been off for some decades Look, smoking grade A, but at school I got low grades Get that boy a box of perfume, he got hoe way Look, throw that boy a 7.62, we don't throw shade I hope everyone don't hit you, not partly Look, I'ma die in these Cuban links, I feel like Rod Wave Walk through 'em, want me to call through, that's a role Look, what you gonna do when the money through, shorty Don't keep tellin' me what you gon' do for me Okay, yeah, I only talk about shit that I go through, I ain't phony, huh You gon' do, huh, what to who? I ain't homie, huh Last man, he got trash can by the homie I ain't no cappin', I spent you advance on lil' homie, uh We gon' get an address, we don't land 'til the morning, huh Matter fact, go and hit 'em up while I'm performin', huh I just got another grill, call me George Foreman I just got another mil' and I ain't even hungry, uh All you niggas do it, bitch you worser than a woman, yeah Anybody get it nigga, show me my opponent, huh I be in the newest shit, I introduce you to this I put you on my shooter list, f*ck it, let me do the bitch I been goin' through some shit, flip out, get the jewler hit On the one like Chris child, we don't sip on no Christ style I remember ridin' 'round in that bucket, huh When we was in that Nissan, they didn't give me nothin', huh When I was fucked up my own bitch wouldn't even love me When I ain't have my swagger right, no hoe wouldn't even f*ck me I be on some feed the fam shit, I know my momma proud of me I know that cut real good, I just can't put down the shit I do it real big, but they don't acknowledge it Look at where I live, huh You know I cash that on it, a condo and a crib I pay more than 1.5 for it Every day I spend some shit, everything I'm in be lit Every time I think about it, I be tryna spend some shit Uh, long live all of my niggas where we done came from Hater, I gotta talk to you in the graveyard
The easy, fast & fun way to learn how to sing: 30DaySinger.com
Written by: David McDowell, Rayshawn Bennett, Thomas Horton
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"7.62 Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 24 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/37142722/Yfn+Lucci/7.62>.
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