Machine, nigga I don't drink cold Henny Uhh, I told Benny bring hoes plenty Far as O's, I sold plenty I hold semis, I stood in the cold in my old Pennys We can get it popping nigga, yes Hand-made mask out of stocking with a TEC Nigga lose a whole lung when I pop 'em in the chest I can tell you ain't getting money rocking them Guisep's Ask Cutta, we got it rocking on the steps At his momma house Boy, them shoe boxes was a mess When I'm on the plane only time I'll be getting rest But the way that I've been getting cheques I been feeling blessed (talk to 'em) Yes, 3 thousand dollar specs Cartiers, pony hair, blood bottoms when I step You fucking with me, that's highly unlikely I don't play ball Still getting boxes from Nike, whoa I know these rap niggas probably don't like me I'm killing shit 'til somebody come fight me, uhh Or somebody come snipe me I'm from the hood where my shottie rung nightly Madison Square Garden looking icy I ain't court side, but a row behind Spike Lee Out in Cali, I'm smoking my own strand Griselda bitch, we started our own gang You pussy ass niggas should ride in your own lane Wig shot, close range Goodbye ya whole brain, motherfuckerTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
