Lyrics:
thieves
Same niggaz that send shots through my rugby sleeves
They want to, slug me and leave, I'm thinkin' it must be me
Please shed light, the hood's
went double-up servin' Fiend
Even though I'm a thug, ya love me
If sex was a game, we'd a play rugby
I got you flyin' first classes on planes
them
Corner the market, gettin' money
Rolling Stoned
Young Khalifa, rugby rohdes, right
Mackin', Hangin' rowland, Gettin' that paper
Mackin', Hangin'
and bring
It back to the hood
Quarter pound a good got the tour bus musty
Polo Rugby, your hoe gon' hug me
If I was you man I wouldn’t trust me
All this blang
like myself in my old Easter photos
Socks and my rugby is Polo
Stop, freeze, on three's my low low
Airplanes, dollar signs on tees, my logo
Kush smokin'
made from scratch
But in due time, soon to get mine like Bugsy
Heavy on the wrist, Polo mocs, socks and rugbies
Old flicks remind me of Gucci's
Back
made from scratch
But in due time, soon to get mine like Bugsy
Heavy on the wrist, Polo mocs, socks and rugbies
Old flicks remind me of Gucci's
Back
then we clear up
Bloods, innards, and smeared guts
Sufferin' succotash
Took an upper-class slut mother back to fuck her while her son was in a rugby
The one who is wishing me
Coming up missing
That one is a dreamer
Calling me ugly I laugh
Because I'm rough as rugby and fast
Industry's chubby
sayin' "Savage keep
Duckin' me and shit"
(Straight up, straight up)
We kick yo' head like soccer balls
And rugby balls and shit
(Straight up, straight up)
a fuckin' skillet
Then put money on his head
Like a fuckin' Skully
Fire, my boys love the cars
Hey, my girls love me
Play with me like it's a game of rugby
for myself
Thought you were smart when you took them on,
But you didn't take a peep in their artillery room
All that rugby puts hairs on your chest
Paul's
Your body's through of fondly in the rugby mauls
But you want more
36D so what (D) so what
Is that all that you've got?
36D so what
real work in that make you cute, fuck that
But anyway son indeed, he stole two Polo rugbies
Swore to his dead mother, I couldn't take it
Yo Lord I
and go ape shit
For years I've been killing it, trust me
Swear down, I will never get rusty
My lyrics dem will rough up your lyrics like rugby
For
fucking ugly and trust me the shit got layers
You touch me, you think you tough, leave you toothless as rugby players
From sufis to soothsayers discussing
chill that's fam duke
He put real work in that make you cute, fuck that
But anyway son indeed, he stole two Polo rugbies
Swore to his dead mother, I
and them rap credits
I'm in the '88 candidates, paisley'd out
In them Coca-Cola rugby's, two bitches, with a front in my mouth
That's right, standin' in
loves me
Rough ball playin like rugby
I wanted her ugly, needed her ugly, treated her ugly
Look - she's very very ugly
Sexin her ugly, callin her ugly,
wants to bone me
I get wild like rugby respected like Bugsy
Don't even ask me 'cause I'm livin' lovely
Born to succeed foes bleed true indeed
a bank
But lives for his game of Rugby
With ten left toes, and a cauliflower nose
He swears that it keeps him young . . . No!
THE SPORTING LIFE IS NOT FOR
And no girls at all
But you're a fool if you should leave
Just think of the joys of rugby football
And prep in the morning and Brylcreem and acne
wings when the slugs fly
Low life loso P Wayne rugby low to them young niggas that know already
I go back like recline, no need to rewind , I still run
Yo Killa lust these
Try not to trust these, I'm six Guyanese
Dust these set up to fuck these, good luck
Trees rolling out with rugbies
You love these,
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