Lyrics:
support but they still phoney
They don't play my shit 'less I got Tip on it
They don't play your shit 'less there's a diss on it
Down to die for this
I'm a bored, T-Rex, can't Grab onto the handle, panic at the disco
Poppin' like Crisco, year like Fiscal, chow down Sysco, pull the ripcord, I'm
as shit
Eighty-nine switches, shit, we runnin' out of Glocks to fit
Eighty-eighths up in my system, bitch, I'm bout to take a trip
Smokin' eighty-seven
escape
Didn't even get a chance to grab my Snoop Dogg tape
Man with no music but happy he's free
Bailin fast as I can bail down 19th Street
I got my sacks
Down from the side to the east
Bitch coming at me get greased yeah
Six nine shots say cheese
Eating chow mein
From a Chinese
Smoke trees
Twenty mil I'm
a nigga candy
All I knew was how to get the money (let's go)
I done broke a lot of records in a year now
Grammy nominated nigga, bitch, it's lit now
I
G's up in this bitch be jammin
Niggas comin down pop trunks just slammin
Niggas hit the van on the candy and them blades
Niggas stayin on me cause
a year to two years actually. By the
time you lot are listening to this, which is February, I mean as we know Can I Play With Madness was
released the 2nd
That lil chick with me I'm pipin' her down
Walk in the store leave you dead in the aisle
Bitch I'm a canine I'm just like a chow
Get your own drip
those fries, can't hold those down
To be seven pounds, you must release several pounds
This is heaven on hell
This is how she wanna live
She ain't really
the windows rolled down
Like 20 on my neck, feel like the king
No crown i be Prada down enough and all
My year be low down red horse, red stripes
Red porshe,
nigga named Screw
The Kici's in this bitch, my nigga Jonathan
I got about 6 or 7 pounds from him
He broke em all down and we all got high
And niggas dont
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
need six
I rocka every year and I don't wear Rolex
And I baby deep a bitch dis a whole chick
So nigga don't flex, 'cause I'm down for a call
My pistol
Ghost or Toast bitch
I'm talking about
HooGee
Krack, krack, boo
1-19-6-2-0 from head to toe
Say SickBoy
7-6 til the world split
Man, y'all know what
Micro « drive-by » ça fait « pow pow »
Pour toi c’est bye-bye , pour toi c’est chow-chow
Amen, fais ta prière allume une chandelle
C’est pas de la
of weed on the floor motherfucker
What the fuck you gon do
Pick it up, pick it up
(Get on down)
If you see a bitch passed out on the fuckin' ground
of weed on the floor motherfucker
What the fuck you gon do
Pick it up, pick it up
(Get on down)
If you see a bitch passed out on the fuckin' ground
Give me no veggie
Bitch i got candy candy candy
When i get out of heaven
What's gonna happen to me
Megadose gang
They give me energy energy
Maybe
vigorous
Stroke that nigga like a zig zag rolled cigarette,
And I do it to get my dick wet
Brain grain rotten, I was a 12 year old gettin' raped by my
believe I'm on my grind
You feel my pain in every verse and line
I'm in it to win it, years end and I'm still goin' hard bitch
Knowin that these rappers
Take care of my bitch yo
Take care of my kids yo
Hold down my chips yo
Hold down that work yo
You got my life in yo hands
Nigga hold me down
From
let's get em
I got shooters by my side that shoot like mellow
Call broem double M gonn shred em
We that big fourteen two seven
I get nothing but green
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