| Yeah, I’m bangin' red, but my beat came from Bloublood
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| You know what I’m sayin'?
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| I ain’t sparin' none of these people
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| I’ll leave it up to my wrist
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| Glock got a drum, rockin' out like the Beatles
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| You ain’t takin' losses, I ain’t takin' none either
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| Pretty lil' bitch, yeah, I turn her to a skeeter
|
| Four lines left, pour it in a two-liter
|
| Yeah, I hit a lick, just call me Derek Jeter
|
| Yeah, this ho suck the drip up, mosquito
|
| And I’m stuffin' all these bands in my pants, man
|
| Yeah, this money growin' old like grandparents
|
| Outside white, but the inside cranberry (Hey)
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| I’ll make a way, no Harriet Tubman (Hey)
|
| I ain’t doin' favors for a motherfuckin' lame
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| Presidential Rollie, yeah, I had to rock it plain
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| Yeah, I went Panamera roof on the whip
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| To make sure I see the stars in the rain
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| You can do what you do, but you know you can’t tame me
|
| It get aired out broad day, but you know they ain’t tellin' names, man
|
| Yeah, when the pressure on, send them young niggas chop it down every day, man
|
| I wan' see somebody head on the curtain
|
| I wan' see somebody dead in they vert
|
| Hit the Aventador with them 7.62s, can’t go nowhere
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| Yeah, please stop playin' with Keed, just know that I go there
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| I seen a lot of shit niggas ain’t never seen, they’ll never go there
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| You can fuck my baby mama, I ain’t trippin', I never put a ring on her
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| Yeah, when I take off and depart, I’m goin' where my dreams at, yeah
|
| I never speak on what I know, nigga, 'cause I’m real, yeah, yeah
|
| Yeah, all-gold Bentley truck, never drive the army Range, no
|
| I ain’t sparin' none of these people
|
| I’ll leave it up to my wrist
|
| Glock got a drum, rockin' out like the Beatles
|
| You ain’t takin' losses, I ain’t takin' none either
|
| Pretty lil' bitch, yeah, I turn her to a skeeter
|
| Four lines left, pour it in a two-liter
|
| Yeah, I hit a lick, just call me Derek Jeter
|
| Yeah, this ho suck the drip up, mosquito
|
| And I’m stuffin' all these bands in my pants, man
|
| Yeah, this money growin' old like grandparents
|
| Outside white, but the inside cranberry (Hey)
|
| I’ll make a way, no Harriet Tubman (Hey)
|
| I ain’t doin' favors for a motherfuckin' lame
|
| Hell yeah, yeah, when I pull up in the building
|
| I got rings in my nose, I got rings in my face
|
| Hell yeah, yeah, yeah, the spider web talkin'
|
| Yeah, I know that I’m straight, yeah, I know that I’m great
|
| Hell yeah, yeah, when I get the meals in
|
| Yeah, I’m scrapin' on the side, yeah, I’m scrapin' off the plate
|
| Gotta stay good with it
|
| Gotta put the bands on my mama so she good livin'
|
| Leave a nigga dead, shoulda, woulda, but I could do it
|
| I tend to boss up when it’s time for it, man, I gotta win a prize
|
| Gotta go get it for her baby name, gotta make sure that I grind
|
| I never lost, gotta see what goin' on, gotta see these numbers climb
|
| Gotta keep a hundred-fifty on me, gotta keep a couple dimes
|
| I put the lights out when it’s night time, okay
|
| Yeah, I’m determined, got ambition on me, tryna make a way
|
| Think a nigga slippin', I’ll go’n get to trippin', go 'head, get a case
|
| Ride with F&N's, Dracos, and AKs
|
| I ain’t sparin' none of these people
|
| I’ll leave it up to my wrist
|
| Glock got a drum, rockin' out like the Beatles
|
| You ain’t takin' losses, I ain’t takin' none either
|
| Pretty lil' bitch, yeah, I turn her to a skeeter
|
| Four lines left, pour it in a two-liter
|
| Yeah, I hit a lick, just call me Derek Jeter
|
| Yeah, this ho suck the drip up, mosquito
|
| And I’m stuffin' all these bands in my pants, man
|
| Yeah, this money growin' old like grandparents
|
| Outside white, but the inside cranberry (Hey)
|
| I’ll make a way, no Harriet Tubman (Hey)
|
| I ain’t doin' favors for a motherfuckin' lame |