[Intro:] Sometimes I tell the bitch I'm with, "Shut up and pass the weed" [x3] Free my niggas! I been smoking griggity, wish I was with em Free my niggas!
[Verse 1:] My cousin CJ tried to hit me with a brick of raw In Alexandria, yeah it's nothing for to get it gone With music, I ain't won awards, but I kept it gangster Gon be a God in New Orleans like that nigga Daymond Landlord in the south like my nigga Lucci Corvette in front of David Ways screeching free Lee Lucas Fuck that nigga bitch, I got her saying free Lee Lucas Beeto and Bryan bitch, I just got off the phone with em My old friends hatin, sending me the wrong signals My dog recorded conversations, man what's wrong with him? You got them college niggas fool, I be with stone killers Doing bad 'fore they switched on me When you're out of power it's over Everybody love you when you feed the streets When you leave the streets, they don't know you Brook used to love me till another nigga with a bigger check approached her Up in DCI, when I was calling home she was at the nigga house smoking I was trying to go to church as a family, but her and him be going Audi S7 was a surprise, I had went and bought that for her Texting, saying someone that I love let her use his whip as a loaner Praise be to God, everything done in the dark really come back on you Cocaine flipper, got the same niggas I came with, and we rolling In the studio with my nigga Hood, but them niggas round him, they pussy Gangster shit, get to going platinum, they'll sit around and be looking I'm so depressed I'll kill myself, wish somebody go head and cook me Fuck!
[Hook:] Bet a lot pussy niggas want to murder Brasi Boulevard, Murcirélago and a Maserati Boobie Black, Gunna, and Menace still a catch a body And if you fuck around with Rayzor, bitch I'm out my body Sideways, coupe be out my body Whole clique pull up in Vettes, bitch we out our body And you ever disrespect it then it's kamikaze I just be with me a shooter like I'm John Gotti I feel like John Gotti John Gotti Cause it ain't shit to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti It ain't shit to send a hit, I feel like John Gotti
[Verse 2:] Praise to Allah, I was born a God, with the murder game I'm righteous Cancel shows just for Rayzor wedding, I don't know another just like it I love Bunker, but despite the love, I don't know what made him dislike it But me and Gunna in the Porsche truck and we screeching off like lightning Fast, doing the dash, your bitch on my ass, she want me to smash Flip out and flash, I'd rather get cash Drika she bad and she into bags Up in the Louis, Emilio Pucci I tell em it's Gucci when they want them bands I got them racks and no longer wear jewelry Cause I'm bout my business, and back selling sand I don't get tired I'm bout my business, and back selling sand I'm bout my business, and back selling sand Packed up my bags and jumped back on the freeway Say home's where the heart is, don't know where I'm going Actavis drinking, I'm leaning and pouring Those who don't get it say what are you on My mother had sex with an angel Born an immortal and ain't even know it Driving alone while inside of my Porsche Beat the fuck out a bitch, ain't no slamming my doors I'm only excited by spiritual things and I swear I can't wait to move on All my niggas I lost know I miss you can't wait to be with you I'm on my way home When they flip the script without warning Talking bout shit you never did for em God blessed you with breath in your body Wish I would let you dig in my pockets Lazy ass bitch, get up and start grinding Not in the streets, you never been bout it Finally got blessed and money started piling Got my first mil, a nigga ain't smiling, wylin'
[Hook]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
