Lyrics:
out the bowl
Before we shake your hand, we'd rather slap you with the strap
A million cash in hunnids, now they bring it to the door (racks)
Twenty K
nigga with a gap?
I'm not a dyke but I keep me a strap
I got two bad bitches, them bitches black
Fly in the air, we smokin' on thrax
How you a black nigga
better not fidget, I ain't gon' kick you, we gon' hit you, nigga
Huh, blickin out with that switchy, boy
You know it's gon' blip you, boy
It ain't in my
with conviction
I'm just saying my decisions have changed
Gotta stay strong chin up
Strap the boots, you're a soldier boy, ten hut
I salute the ones
answer whenever I call you
Know that I walk up in Saks and I play with them racks
You a broke boy , boy, I could've bought you
That boy tried to run up
him off the block
Lil one kind of remind me of me
Man lil one a G
Lil one runnin with the big boys
Lil one fuckin these hoes
Lil one got some of these
Crunk in the club with the crew by my side
Ready for action, I pen out the ride
Who's ever with me will throw hand so quickly
So if you against me, be
I was born on the wrong side of the train-tracks
I was raised with the strap across my back
Lay me on my side or hold me up to the light, yeah
I
probably the song where the lyrics aren't trash
Articles actually answer when I aim
Best boy back half black with no shame
Nickels to niggas never mention
they'll never get up
Few of 'em might even pull out their strap and go yak-yak-yak-yak-yak-yak with the gun
I'm a tell 'em that God He want all of your
down
When we ride don't be holding that weed up high
Hold it down
Keep that strap by ya side hold It down
Hold it down
Don't be worried bout the boy
in the Louis strap you should build
And you know got it, if you got it, you ain't got yourself
And if your body, you a body, you ain't by yourself
How
and plans
The corner-shop owner predicts a war with Iran
A family caught in traffic as they pass by the church
The father tells the children if we're late
And the youngest of the family is moving with authority.
Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside.
The cattle quietly grazing
jeep?
Who left they strap under da motherfuckin seat?
I just get da money fuck these hoes and go to sleep
I dont understand why these niggas wanna compete
The front page of the paper
Backside in the middle
On parole still can't get me
Now to ride with my pistol
Boosie
95 max on dope boy cologne on (Creed)
to see you leaking out blood spitting up phlegm
Aim for your hat with the strap yeah the flat brim
You ain't really a thug you act like them
I'm Freda Gatz
Ya played with the Lil' Ya now ya takin' yo last breath
Pop 'Em Up, Pop 'Em Up
Watch 'em bleed to death
Ya played with the Yella Boy now ya
a scooter to work
Your auntys sideburns do bicep curls at night
Trapping with my sexy boys
Were getting the dick tonight
(j man oh yeah)
Grind mode ammy stay
Milky Way's comets
Milky Way with the silky wave droppin', that's
Slick Ricky Bobby on the song and that's
Quick, bitch, go get ya boy some
at the Weiner Schnitzel, got socked in the jaw
By some sixties, I bombed back, the nigga pulled
Out a strap, said it's 6-0, I ducked, then he missed me
Now I'm
He's been preeing on his Snap' for him to screen where he's at
If the place ain't too bait, he's going there with the strap
Kyron's been Snappin' that
a Maserati
And I should stick to it, like beef teriyaki
I'm dope with the pen, like a calligrapher
Arab money in the Arabian peninsula
Feel at home, even when
them scoreless
I'm the coldest with the word play bitch check yo sources
The rhymes coming out my mouth like infinity
I been spitting so real I'm
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