Lyrics:
the feelings in the wind
And the friendship in the bed
I said it was cool to kick it with you
To follow the trend to fall quick and blend
I can't stop
I said it
up
Stuntin' on them bitches and the whips flamed up
The sun do shine, Christmas every day
Them holidays comin', so you know we quick to spray
to the night, on the dirty
All my might, when it's right, then I strike on them early
Twisted like livin' dirty, super savage, I'm out to get that bread
Gutter
M4 GHA
I'm running through block
Quick cuz I don't play
M4 Frito Lay
Getting to the bag SO
Get out my way
No matter the weather
I'm after
(Vibe)
On my solo dolo (Ok!)
Count the check up quick (Quick)
C-C-Count it right (Okay!)
Keep on moving, keep on moving
Wit' all my might, Yeah
Gotta feel
You smell like a field
Cow-shirt in midsummer sun
I must have been mad
But I gave you all the bread that I had
Your mother's a freak
She made me weak
who the fuck you are
You's a motherfucking nigga for life
It's all sowed up, in the LBC
Bitches breakin bread when they see the lil ass gee
I
want to break me down like erv before I choke
I'm not a jack at all I'm quick draw mcgraw
And number 20 on the Lakers couldn't hold me y'all
I'm
Rollie tick tock
Diamonds dance till Andy comin, quick stop
That shit fugazi, Patrick Swayze cut the lil act
Niggas claim they sippin on act, where you get
soaking yeah she wet wet (Wet wet)
I was gone make her mine but she a net net (Net net)
Don't wanna waste no time so chase bread bread (No time)
She gave me
pocket homie
I got the r-rocket on me
Dare you nigga t-try try me homie
For the love of spread
I'ma butter bread
Man I prolly should be dead
Was it
Bling bling, was well known to flash money
Hit the liquor store, after my Vic authority
Quick to switch a bitch up, pick up me a thicker shorty
Pistol
day one
Almost had it all then the day comes
When they walking through your house with the strap out
Pointing at your head, got the bread then you
baby mama, kick her out
I call a pam finessing's all i know
I be quick to pull a scam
Jumpin' out your house
You can call me Rob Van Dam
All these
Box full of bald heads, got why'all scared
Then hit tha block for why'all bread
Cause when why'all post up i'm leavin why'all dead
Leavin why'all
respect it, I know you gon' let me shine
I know you ain't gon' step, I know you know I tote iron
Quick to bust, and I know you don' wan' die
You see
bitch gun
She asked where I've been, I just had to make a quick run
I'm an NWA, nigga with an AK
That'll put an end to the melee
Smokin' on pounds
Bounce out hop out with that mop stick
Niggas playing with my gang they get popped Quick
Niggas saying that they real but that's not it
Hop out with
the bread, dog, I'm like Adolf H-Hitler
Give me the money or meet the sizzler
I'm a toaster like strudels, I'm a burn these niggas, yeah (DJ Ill Will)
hello, hello, how low (I feel stupid)
My money bag heavy in every town I lock up
(Woo) loafs of bread jumping out the
Toaster when I pop up (yeah)
Because
it went
I guess the money gon' get moldy when you don't spend the bread
La di da da
Kill get paid
La di da da
Hail the saints
La di da da
Kill get paid
Menthol on my breath
I just need some bread with in
Ive been on my stress
Mental health been stretching since
Mama don't you worry Imma get up on my
Time of the year
To pop my shit
Got that shit on
Finna pop out quick
Know a bitch cold from my neck to my wrist
My hoes got blinks, might pop your
creep
Leave 'em leakin' so easily
P-90 four fivey one shawty one body we outie
Bounty on niggas heads who be
On instagram countin' his bread
Yeah you
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