Lyrics:
my niggas is smoke fiends
Fucking every part of the planet, slam a forty with a salmon
Hit your ho on target, we family
These are big niggas, grown
wig with those clinks
And I got to catch my forty winks
So milkman, keep those bottles quiet
Now noise of the riveter rocks, don't mind it
'Cause
And the first time I saw her she was beautiful
Sixty-two plus forty-six equals one hundred and eight
Possible years they'll live long too
That's almost half
Ripley
Throw the guy a meat bone, put him on a train
That's the way it should end
Living the outskirts, to forty miles away
Where the lonely road ends
the 40 on me
When you greet a nigga do it how you would a OG
Shot rang, bum dropped his 40 ounce OE
It's kinda hard tryna survive in New York streets
Drop
supply the weed, rocks, soap and them thangs
I shut shop down, for forty days and forty nights, woo
The block hot now I have you wondering who are them
We
my mind
I've cried so much I hurt all over the breakin' forty's gettin' closer
There's a limit and I've almost reached mine
[ guitar ]
Once I had my
Tell me why the fuck you mad though? (Mad though)
I ain't that used to getting mad dough (Mad dough)
I dropped forty pointers on your ass, ho (Ass,
was sold
If I get 40 thousand for a show
I'm scared I'll spend 20 thousand on some dope
Either RAF or Ricky on my toes
In high school I never made
down, pussy! Who the fuck you gonna clap?
Get the fuck out the game! If it wasn't that shit
Forty will be a god damn Saint, nigga!
It's not a game, this
He was just a child
Forty five years old
Who travelled alone
With his old grandmother
He was just a child
Forty five years old
Travelling alone
In
blindao'
Le regalamo' una forty a Santa Claus
Yo no quiero fake ni en los pies ni al lao' (yeah)
No quiero fake ni en los pies ni al lao' (yeah)
Sesenta
shot yuh fi tell
Him weh di weed is
New lotts gun spit bullet like Wrigley's
Gun ah AK sing like Leroy sibilies
Wah? Diss man from fifties and forties
a habit, I like fuckin' gettin' head (freak bitch)
Bitch, I got a habit, still choppin' off of dreads (I do)
Roll forty-one bitch to the hood, this
(know your-)
Paranoid as fuck, got you dying, that shit- (Woah)
Only thing I crashed bag, at you (yeah)
When I'm forty-five, I could kill forty
Mannie Klein (37) and Jule Styne (38)
Were limp on the vine
Till Franny hollered Manny (39)
"That's a nose and a half (40) "
Then there was Louis Nizer
with .40's aimin' at the motherfuckin' rocket (yeah, yeah)
Motherfuckin' pull up, the block goin' down
A hundred rounds of metal gon' pull up and fill
Back in forty one, you met a brown-eyed boy
Who called you pretty
He’d walk every day, couple miles out of his way
To hold your hand and keep you
on the ground like, "Why me?"
'Cause this .40 gon' rock him like Kyrie
Paramedics, he hooked to a IV
All of my niggas cappin', so why tweet?
Ayy, fuck
to clean, hell na I can't speak
12 hundred on the jeans
5 hundred on the feet
3 goon chains a hundred 40 thousand dollars each
400 20 thousand, I can show
gotta bust
Got the forty on my waist right by my gut
Say she like a nigga jewelry but don't touch
I wanna rob myself bitch I know wassup
I'm
matters
You're not just fluous, you're superfluous
You don't actually do anything, a human redundancy
40 year old Macallans, 40 Old English ounces
Give you forty and then some
Whatever it takes
Three dollars and change at the pump
The cost of livin's high and goin' up
I put Robert down
child, through this photo album
Just think they'd used to sell out a baseball stadium
Nineteen forty-eight
Well now you'll graduate and you think
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