| She don’t like when I go on the glide
|
| But it’s like on the roads I reside
|
| And what’s love cuz, I don’t know the meaning
|
| And I’ve been lookin' but it’s so hard to find
|
| I’m actin' like I ain’t got feelings
|
| But deep down, I’m broken inside
|
| And I ain’t into the preachin'
|
| But I don’t know why these hoes wanna lie
|
| She don’t like when I go on the glide
|
| But it’s like on the roads I reside
|
| And what’s love cuz, I don’t know the meaning
|
| And I’ve been lookin' but it’s so hard to find
|
| It’s been a little while, let me slide up in them DMs
|
| Big drip, big whips, she seen me in them BMs
|
| I know that she been preein', 'cause I been preein' too
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| And I ain’t gotta lie, Ma, I wanna be with you
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| In jail, no bail plus now I’m relaxin'
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| Smooth criminal, I do it better than Jackson
|
| That’s bait, got a next ting bringin' the packs in
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| Bless her cotton socks, she don’t know what’s happenin'
|
| The jail ting’s dead, B, I’m back on these roads
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| More than twenty on my chains and I ain’t done no shows
|
| I’m done with these hoes, I need me a wife
|
| I ain’t worried about a back, her breasts or her thighs
|
| Restless nights in the pen, lookin' at my spends like, «Where's all my
|
| so-called friends?»
|
| Seems like she’s more realer than an end
|
| She gets the same trust that I’m puttin' in these skengs
|
| I’m actin' like I ain’t got feelings
|
| But deep down, I’m broken inside
|
| And I ain’t into the preachin'
|
| But I don’t know why these hoes wanna lie
|
| She don’t like when I go on the glide
|
| But it’s like on the roads I reside
|
| And what’s love cuz, I don’t know the meaning
|
| And I’ve been lookin' but it’s so hard to find
|
| Had this bitch I use to tap twice whenever it was that time
|
| She could make your heart stop, flatline
|
| She won’t ever leave me in a bad time
|
| But I snaked her, left her in the cold, I saw a bad sign
|
| Then I met this ting called Nina that I kept slappin' like Ike did Tina
|
| Used to conceal her, chill and smoke reefer
|
| Niggas must’ve thought that I’d never leave her
|
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, that love was very rare
|
| She loves the big drip, that’s a very heavy tear
|
| Scratching Moncler, that’s a very heavy tear
|
| We could’ve gone clear, free my niggas up in there
|
| Missing birthdays every year
|
| Restless nights in the pen, lookin' at my spends like, «Where's all my
|
| so-called friends?»
|
| Seems like she’s more realer than an end
|
| She gets the same trust that I’m puttin' in these skengs
|
| I’m actin' like I ain’t got feelings
|
| But deep down, I’m broken inside
|
| And I ain’t into the preachin'
|
| But I don’t know why these hoes wanna lie
|
| She don’t like when I go on the glide
|
| But it’s like on the roads I reside
|
| And what’s love cuz, I don’t know the meaning
|
| And I’ve been lookin' but it’s so hard to find |