Lyrics:
girl I need a liter
Like Martin, you go girl!
I know that flame and you got it
I'm sending shots like Yo Gotti
I just want you and your body
Can I just
standin
It's racci on da beat trick mr trunk killa music himself
Aged with perfection
They call it top shelf
Best believe I'm in a lane by my mother fucking
Pippen
Got a cougar she flying from Memphis
Girl you playing You lying you tripping
Smoking wax getting high as a blimp
Haven't really got high in a minute
rogue pistols
Walkin' contradiction like "quiet noise"
No words eyes blurred with my diamonds pores
Four karats in these ears make you call your boys
on tree
Really help
With my stress
Blowing on trees
Really help
With my stress
Rolling up
Getting high
Smoking weed
Help me get by
In the backyard burning
need you in my life
I need you by my side
Lemme be be the one for you
Maybe you should stay
Baby be my main
I want you to be my bitch
I need your love I
walk-in testimony open yo eyez
Sometimes u need a motive Nd sometimes u gon feel hopeless keep on Grinding just stay focus see ur craft u gotta mold it
You might be in, a hearse, then casket, then church
Then you aten(eaten) by the maggots
Fuck you hatin bastards
It's over for why'all niggas once
shine
Ball till I fall, ride fly to I die
Half a thing going for five
Dog it's on, cut brick up sell in 18 zones
Better get yo hustle on do what you gotta
You niggaz just don't get it do you?
Young Roscoe the sodo
YA, Dogg Poung, Kurupt Young Gotti
Yeah, started November 23, 1972 and 83
[Hook]
Put me
thangs
Niaggas are taggin', they backin' up, they let'em hang
My niggas walkin' up, pullin' up, fuck a drive by
Cuz the nigga on the passenger side
wit' tha Layzie, lil' Eazy, my mentor.
Keep in, handin' over tha shoes, I go walkin' in,
And, baby, had to go, die, bye bye,
Wit' tha cruel world,
Faster than a crackhead, can pawn yo' shit
Willie d'll put a foot in you bitch
I sold dope, robbed folks, had to make ends meet
Since 5th grade, I been
and pyre
The temperature hotter then lava, the medium, medium meetin 'em tedium
B.B. The Kid sire, Allah the king administer candles, kiss the ring
Dig in
We lit up and we don't need nobody
I got the base in the trunk of the car
And I serve up the city like Yo Gotti
These are Air Force 1s on me, not
Yeah
(Come in)
Names that you know me by, praise to the holy high
Shit been a lonely ride, all I do is only try
Weed is my only high, magazine
reject her
I done tapped in with Spottie, made men like John Gotti
We flipped so much crypto that we could buy a Maserati Oh no mane, not the car, see I'm
tried to suck my dick
And we ain't even friends
I think that they don't know the
Price I'm payin' for my sins
I think that the devil is walkin'
With me in
some, yo
Yo, yo, gimme some room, I'm throwin' elbows
Timberland boots, Air Force and shell-toes, who the fuck is them
If I gotta pay to get in the club
Yo whassup P?
Yo nuttin man just coolin kick back in the studio wit DJ Scratch
And my man Frank B, reminiscin about how we was tryin to shop
Our
tell by ya charm
(When I'm in need)
Far as girls you got a flock
I can tell by ya charm and ya arm
(I gotta leave)
But I'm lookin' for the one
Have
and fuck around and slip up on my pimpin I’m a pretty bitch but bitches kno that I can get real wit it and bitch I’m from Memphis it’s a warzone all up in my
cruise
Got's new jeans, suits and Timbaland boots
Get off em', '92, all why'all ball
You playin with me, yo, I'm ballin' for all
[Chorus:]
In 96',
of me say her name Nicki
But she only answer when I say Barbie
We drunk off the remy
Getting high in the rarri
Met her on the mill by the safaree
Lead
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